New Endings
by Lizabeth S. Tucker
Summary: Roy DeSoto is transferred to train new paramedics, leaving Johnny Gage with a new partner, one with no appreciation for firefighters like Johnny and Marco.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Captain Hank Stanley stood outside his office, watching his paramedics check over their equipment after roll call. He listened to their easy banter with a fond smile. Both men's lives were about to change. Whether it would be good for them or the department remained to be seen, but Hank had his doubts. "Roy, could I see you in my office?"

Roy DeSoto exchanged puzzled looks with John Gage, his partner. "Sure, Cap."

"What d'ya do, Roy?" Johnny asked sotto voce, concerned by their captain's demeanor.

Roy shrugged. "Got me. Guess I'll find out." He followed Stanley into the office.

"Why don't you shut the door behind you, pal."

Roy did so without comment. Hank could see his senior paramedic searching for a reason for the private meeting. Trying to delay the inevitable, he shuffled papers on his desk. Sighing, he finally spoke. "Roy, I assume you're aware of how the department's paramedic program has grown since you took the first class."

"Yes, sir. Average class size for Advanced Life Support has been over 20 students per class for the past two years alone. We're even training men from surrounding departments." Roy was beaming, obviously proud of the success of the emergency medical assistance program.

"The local hospitals are beginning to feel the crunch. They want the fire department to take up some of the burden. Rampart and Harbor General will still help with some of the hands-on medical instructions, but actual paramedics who do the job will be teaching alongside the doctors and nurses. It's believed they can give training which is more appropriate to the demands of the job as well as free some of the hospital personnel."

"That sounds like a good idea. Some of the doctors and nurses really don't know what we do and under what conditions," Roy said. "I helped out with Johnny's class, but that's not the same thing as teaching. So they're looking for volunteers?"

"Not exactly. In fact, headquarters has selected the paramedic instructors already." He coughed nervously. "You'll be reporting on Monday."

Roy straightened in his chair. "Sir?"

"You've been selected, Roy."

"But..."

"And John will be remaining here," he continued with the bad news.

"What? But why wasn't Johnny picked? He was there from the beginning, just as I was. My designation as paramedic might be earlier than his, but we both started on the same day."

Hank grimaced. "Headquarters considers you as more, uh, mature."

"Johnny's only one year younger than I am," Roy protested, stung.

"I don't think age is what they meant, Roy. Headquarters may also believe that your status as a married man makes you more stable."

"What if I refuse?" Roy asked.

"It's a done deal, Roy." Hank handed the other man a folder. "Your transfer and reassignment papers are in here."

"How long will this detail last?"

Hank rubbed his eyes wearily. "It's permanent, pal. I'm sorry. You'll have to bid on an opening after you've been there six months. I'm sorry to see you go."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sorry to go, Cap." Roy climbed slowly to his feet. "I dread breaking this to Johnny."

"I'll do that. Could you send him in here, Roy?"

Roy nodded, walking back out to the apparatus bay. Stunned by the news, he didn't know what to think or do.

"Roy? What's wrong? Roy!" Johnny grabbed his friend's arm, dismayed by the strange look on the man's face. "Is something wrong with Joanne? The kids?"

"No, no, they're okay. Cap...Cap needs to see you."

"Roy?"

"Just go see the Captain, Johnny. He'll explain it to you." Roy continued on to the dorm, leaving a worried John Gage behind him.

"Cap?" Johnny shut the office door at Stanley's direction. "Did we do something wrong?"

"No, John, you didn't. I'm afraid there are some changes coming to Station 51's A-shift." Hank expected Roy's reaction to be mild compared to that of the younger man sitting across from him.

"Changes? What changes?" Johnny's expression cleared. "You mean Chet finally passed his engineer's exam?" He grinned. "That's great! But why would that bum Roy out? Cap! Did you get a Chief's slot?"

"That isn't it." Hank proceeded to explain to Johnny exactly what the Department had in mind for Roy's immediate future.

"But...I don't...why didn't…why wasn't…" Johnny stopped and dug the heel of his left hand into his eye. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. "Why wasn't I made an instructor? What did I do wrong, Cap?" Confusion and hurt clouded the warm brown eyes.

Hank had dreaded this question. "I don't know, John, but I can make some guesses. You and Roy are two of the best paramedics in the program. It probably made sense for one of you to teach in the classroom and the other continue that training in the field. As Roy is married with a family, it may have seemed logical to them to put him on the five-day-a-week schedule."

Hank Stanley had no intention of telling Johnny that the department didn't have enough faith in him to trust him as an instructor, a big mistake in his opinion. There was much more to John Gage than the man sometimes displayed.

Johnny bit his lower lip. "I…okay, I guess you might be right. I just…I don't know." He blew his breath out noisily. "How's Roy takin' it? He looked shell-shocked when he walked out of here."

Hank wasn't surprised that Johnny turned his attention to how the changes were affecting his partner, pushing his own concerns to the side. "He's not happy at how this was handled. What about you?"

"I'm not exactly thrilled that they're splitting us up, I can tell you that." He gave an impatient shrug. "I don't know, Cap. I mean, I know we've been partners for longer than a lot of the others. I guess I never wanted to think about it. This is gonna take a while to sink in. It'll probably hit me when I get in that squad and see someone else sitting next to me."

"If you have any further questions, John, or just want to talk, you know my door's open."

"Thanks, Cap." Johnny walked out of the office straight into an eavesdropping Chet Kelly. "What are you doing, Kelly?"

Moustache waggling above his devilish grin, Chet began to dig at his favorite Pigeon. "It's not what I'm doing, Gage, it's what have you done?"

"I haven't done anything," Johnny retorted, trying to push his way past the other man.

"Oh, yeah? Then why did Cap call you into his office? And close the door?"

Johnny slipped around Chet, heading to the dorm where he last saw Roy heading. Chet followed along. "For your information…" Johnny's voice trailed off. His expression grew serious when he spotted his partner sitting on his bunk, staring forlornly at the brick divider.

"For my information what?" Chet asked, puzzled by the change that came over his coworker. "Gage? What's wrong?"

"Chet, give us a few minutes, will ya?" He nodded toward Roy.

"Yeah, okay. Sure, Johnny," the other man replied, sensing a troubling undercurrent. With one final look and a pat on Johnny's back, Chet left.

Johnny dropped down on the cot beside Roy. They sat silently for a long time before Roy turned to face him.

"You okay?" Both men spoke simultaneously, then laughed softly.

"I'm really ticked off about this," Roy grumbled.

"Yeah, me, too."

"Cap says I can bid back in on a paramedic position, but not for six months. By then you'll have a new permanent partner, even if they don't give you one right away."

Johnny nodded glumly.

Roy pushed himself to a standing position. "I guess we should tell the others."

"This is our last shift together."

"Yeah." Roy held out his hand to his partner.

Johnny clasped it. Brown eyes locked with blue as Roy pulled him to his feet. "I'm gonna miss working with you."

"Same here." Johnny slowly pulled his hand back before commenting further. "It won't be the same without you."

"We'll still be friends, Johnny. We'll still see each other."

"Yeah."

"Johnny, you're my best friend. This doesn't and won't change that."

The dark-haired man shook his head, not wanting to make it harder for his partner. "Don't mind me, Roy. I just don't like surprises. Give me time to think it through and I'll be okay. I just need some time to adjust."

"I can certainly understand that. Well, let's go break the bad news," Roy suggested, smiling sympathetically as Johnny grimaced.

"Yeah, okay. If we have to. Roy?" He stopped his partner at the door. "You'll be one helluva great instructor. They're lucky to have you." With a sad smile he passed by, heading to the dayroom.

Touched, Roy had to hurry to catch up to his long-legged partner. He almost ran into Johnny when his friend stopped short, momentarily freezing when all eyes turned to him. Finally, Johnny stepped forward to stand awkwardly by the blackboard.

Roy looked at Johnny before he spoke, seeing the dark-haired man staring at the floor. "Guys, we have some news to tell you." He hesitated, unconsciously heightening the tension in the room.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Chet's voice rose.

"I'll be teaching paramedic students at the Academy, so I won't be working here in the future."

"For how long?" asked Mike Stoker, A-shift's engineer.

"At least six months, Mike."

There was rumbling in the room as the men reacted.

"When do you and Johnny leave?" Marco Lopez resumed chopping celery for the soup he was preparing for dinner.

Johnny frowned before answering. "I, uh, I won't be going. I'm staying here."

Chet opened his mouth to make a smart remark, changing his mind when he saw the pained expressions on both paramedics' faces. Instead he asked when it would be effective as he sat on the couch.

"Monday. This is my last shift at 51." Roy's blue eyes darkened with emotion. "I'll miss working with you guys."

"Yeah, we're gonna miss you, too, Roy." Marco shook his head in disbelief. "But you'll be a great teacher," he added, unknowingly echoing Johnny.

While Roy spoke to the others, Johnny threw himself down on the couch next to Chet. Henry, the station mascot, was sprawled across Chet's lap, the firefighter absently massaging the basset hound's long soft ears.

"This bites," Chet muttered. "Why's he leaving?"

"It wasn't his idea, Chet. The brass decided Roy was the guy they wanted."

"What about you? Why weren't you picked?"

"I don't know, man. I really don't know. Cap said something about Roy doing the class work while I handle the field training."

"You buy that?"

Johnny didn't reply for a moment, considering his answer. "I don't know. I just don't know."

Sitting in rare quiet companionship, the two men considered the changes to come. The Station 51 family was being torn asunder after an unusually long run together.

"Do you know who your new partner will be?"

"I don't know. I might have temps for a while. Hey, Cap," he called to his superior.

"Yes, John?"

"Do you know who I'll be working with?"

"According to the paperwork from headquarters, your new partner will be J.C. Carlyle."

"Carlyle? I've never heard of him. Where's he out of?" Johnny thought he knew all the paramedics working for the County, by name if not in person.

"He's a new hire who was a firefighter paramedic in San Francisco before moving down here. Carlyle's already been through certification for Los Angeles County."

The tones sounded, ending the conversation. For the rest of the shift, the squad was on the run constantly, something both men appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Johnny was reluctant to go into the locker area, but had to get changed for work. He took his week's worth of uniforms and hung them in his locker. He slowly unbuttoned his tan shirt, his brown eyes constantly drawn to Roy's locker. No, he reminded himself, it wasn't Roy's any longer.

He finished getting into his uniform, heading for the kitchen for much needed coffee. Johnny heard conversation and laughter as he walked across the apparatus bay. He stepped into the room to see a new face there, a large man with white blond hair cut close to the scalp who was talking to Mike, Chet, and Captain Stanley.

"John!" Stanley greeted his paramedic. "Come meet your new partner. J.C., this is John Gage. John, J.C. Carlyle."

Johnny stepped forward, extending his hand. After a moment's hesitation, it was taken, given one quick pump and dropped.

"Gage," J.C.'s verbal acknowledgement was just as quick.

"J.C.? What does that stand for?" Johnny asked curiously.

"I only use my initials," the new man replied curtly.

"Ooookay." Before Johnny could say anything else, Marco walked into the room, greeted by the others. Only Johnny was still looking at J.C., only he saw the momentary spasm of distaste on the new man's face. Uncertain of what he saw, Johnny dismissed it from his mind.

"Gentlemen, I need to make a call so roll call will be in ten minutes," Stanley said before heading to his office.

Hearing C-shift's paramedics returning with the squad, Johnny spoke. "Let me show you our equipment." He led the way to the vehicle, greeting the men just getting out of it. He introduced them to J.C. before pulling boxes from the various storage compartments. "I know every station does it a little differently."

J.C. squatted next to the open drug box while Johnny finished calibrations with Rampart. Once Johnny was done, J.C. spoke. "You always have your drug box messed up like this?"

"Uh, Roy, that's my former partner, he and I set it up so the most commonly used drugs are close to hand."

"Makes it hard on everyone else, but whatever makes it easier for you," J.C. commented before moving on to inspect the trauma box.

Johnny didn't know how to respond. Had he been insulted or was he simply overly sensitive? He decided to give J.C. the benefit of the doubt. It was always difficult to be the new guy at the station as Johnny well remembered.

Johnny tried again. "Hey, J.C., would you like some coffee?"

J.C. looked coldly at Johnny. Finally he nodded. The two men walked into the dayroom. Johnny began to pull two cups from the cupboard, only to have J.C. reach past him to get his own cup.

Captain Stanley stepped into the room before Johnny could pour. "Roll call, gentlemen."

When everyone lined up as usual, J.C. moved to stand on the other side of Chet, rather than between Johnny and Marco. The others didn't seem to notice.

Stanley read the day's memorandums and safety alerts. "Before I give out assignments, let's officially welcome our new station member, J.C. Carlyle. J.C., this is one of the best crews in the department. I know you'll be a valued member of our Station 51 family." The captain then gave out the day's chores.

J.C. gave a quick nod before moving to the dorm to strip sheets off the beds.

Marco lingered near Johnny, watching the new man stalk off. "Amigo, I think he has a problem with us."

"So it's not my imagination?"

"Not a chance. I don't think our new hermano likes firefighters of the brown persuasion."

"Huh. Well, that's his loss. C'mon, Marco, let's start on the hoses. As dirty as they are, this'll take half the shift. I can't believe C-shift was too busy to clean them. Where was the fire? In a mud lake?" Johnny's complaints continued as the two men strolled out to the back of the station where the hose tower resided.

J.C.'s teeth clenched as he carried the bundle of dirty laundry to the old-fashioned wringer-washer also located at the back of the station. His assignment to station 51 had been his goal once he heard about the impending opening from a secretary in personnel. He had never expected to see _*their*_ kind at the station. How could one of _*them*_ , a redskin, be part of the renowned team of paramedics? It had to have been DeSoto. He was the talent. That was why DeSoto was chosen to be an instructor while Gage wasn't.

J.C. shoved as many of the sheets as he could into the tub, dumping a cup of soap on top. He switched the machine on, before walking back into the station. J.C. pointedly ignored the two men scrubbing hose, to both men's amusement.

On the way back to put clean sheets on the beds, J.C. stopped to use the bathroom, nodding at the engineer cleaning the sinks. It would be six months before he could leave the mixed crew. He splashed water on his face, wiped it with paper towels.

The tones blared throughout the station, sending Squad 51 out on a 'woman down' call. Johnny came running, slipping behind the steering wheel. J.C. moved to the passenger side, strapping his helmet on without a word. Johnny handed him the address slip.

Johnny had always navigated for Roy, suggested shortcuts, warned of possible hazards. He quickly realized that J.C. wouldn't be performing the same service.

~ E! ~

Pulling up at the address, Johnny saw a woman standing outside the cottage, wringing her hands. He gathered their equipment, joined by J.C. toting the oxygen and biophone.

"She's back in here," the older woman said, leading them to a back sewing room where a pretty young woman sat in a chair, her burnished ebony features shimmering with sweat.

Johnny moved to her side after laying the drug box on the floor. "Hi, there. My name's John. This is my partner, J.C. What's your name? "

"Laura. Laura Teasdale."

"What seems to be the problem, Laura?"

"I can't see," she sniffled.

"Is your vision blurry or completely gone?"

"There's nothing."

Johnny quietly interviewed Laura, his calm and friendly manner helping to control her fears. J.C. took her vitals while Johnny continued his questioning. "Did you hit your head?"

"No. I've had problems with my sight before, but nothing like this."

"Gage, her BP is 180 over 90, heart rate is 120 and respirations are 16," J.C. said as he wrote the information down on the pad stored in the biophone's case.

Johnny acknowledged his new partner before continuing with Laura. "Like what?"

"Sometimes I can't see anything. Other times I'm seeing spots."

Johnny smiled reassuringly at Laura. "Do you have any other symptoms or complaints when that happens?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm usually really dizzy. And I have a bad headache as well. Just like I do now."

"And she had a seizure just before I called. It's why I did call. I'm her mother, Martha Berry," the older woman said from her position near the door, carefully staying out of the men's way.

Johnny turned to her. "Mrs. Berry, the seizure, can you describe it for me?"

"Well, it lasted about a minute, maybe two, but it seemed like a lifetime."

"Yes, ma'am, I imagine it did," Johnny replied as J.C. used the biophone to contact Rampart General Hospital.

"Her whole body was jerking about. I got scared and thought I should call you. But by the time you arrived, it was all over. Except for the blindness. I always thought she just had migraines. Pregnant women do, you know?"

"You're pregnant, Laura?"

"Not now. Momma?" Laura reached out for her mother, gripping the woman's hand as she answered the paramedic's questions.

Continuing to question Laura further, Johnny discovered that the 20 year old woman was postpartum, having just delivered a healthy infant two weeks prior. "A baby girl, huh?"

"Yes, her name is Taniska," replied the proud mother. "She's spending the day with her father and his parents."

"Rampart, patient had given birth with no complications two weeks earlier," J.C. reported to Mike

Morton, the doctor catching the call at Rampart's base station.

"Laura, do you have any medical problems that I should know about?" Johnny asked.

"No, nothing."

"What about medication, are you taking any kind of drugs?"

"Nothing really, just aspirin. For the headaches."

"51, ask if this was her first birth?" came Morton's voice over the biophone.

"Miss, is this your first baby?"

"Yes, sir. But it's Mrs.," she corrected gently.

J.C. didn't respond, passing the birth information along before relaying a further question. "Did you have any problems during your pregnancy?"

"No. Why?"

"Just checking all the bases," Johnny reassured her when J.C. didn't respond. "I'm gonna check you a little more, ask some questions so we can see what might be happening to you, okay?"

"Yes, okay."

A physical examination revealed that Laura, already determined to be alert as to person, place and time, had no evidence of oral trauma. She blushed when Johnny asked if she had wet herself during her seizure, but denied that anything like that had happened.

"Rampart," J.C. reported, "victim was not postictal on arrival. She shows no evidence of dyspnea or jugular venus distention."

Johnny removed the stethoscope from his ears. "Her lungs are clear and equal bilaterally." He gently palpated her abdomen. "Her abdomen is soft with no tenderness."

J.C. repeated Johnny's report, then added, "Rampart, there is no evidence of pedal edema."

"51, send a strip," ordered Morton. "Be advised, ambulance is delayed."

"Laura, I need you to come down here on the floor beside me, okay? I'm going to patch you up so we can send a strip to the hospital to let them see what your heart is doing." Johnny, assisted by Laura's mother, helped the frightened young woman sit on the floor, a cushion placed under her by Johnny. He applied the leads to her chest, delicately placing them under her loose blouse.

"Acknowledge ambulance delay. Any ETA?"

"Not at this time, 51. Ambulance was caught in a jackknife on 405."

"Understood."

After a pause to pass the information on to Gage, J.C. advised, "Rampart, this will be lead two."

Viewing the monitor as Morton was doing at the hospital led to the same conclusion, Laura was showing sinus tachycardia at a rate of 120.

After starting the saline solution ordered and receiving notification that the ambulance was out of gridlock, Johnny turned to Laura's mother. "Ma'am, the ambulance should be here shortly. Can you show them in?"

"Yes, of course. May I come with her?"

"Yes, ma'am. You'll have to ride up front."

As the ambulance attendants were bringing the stretcher in, Laura began to have a grand mal seizure. Johnny and J.C. quickly moved the chair from her side and helped control her movements to avoid her injuring herself.

"Oh, my baby!" her mother cried out, terrified by the stiffness followed by the violent movements of her daughter. It seemed to her a lifetime until the seizure died down, but soon a passive Laura was packaged for transport to Rampart.

"I'll ride in with the patient," J.C. stated. "In case there are any further problems."

Johnny frowned. _What did that mean?_

~ E! ~

At Rampart, Johnny leaned against the counter outside the glass enclosed base station, sipping at a cup of coffee while he waited for J.C. to join him.

His new partner came out of the treatment room, accompanied by head nurse Dixie McCall. She flashed a warm smile at Johnny as she saw him there. "Hello, handsome."

"Hey, Dixie," he responded, unable to stop a slight blush at her greeting. He knew that Dixie loved to tease him, but still couldn't stop his reaction. He was satisfied to know that some days he gave as good as he got in flirtatious teasing. "How's Laura doing?"

"I think she'll be fine, but she'll need to be admitted until she's stabilized."

"Gage, do you know what's wrong with her?" J.C. asked, his manner indicating that he didn't expect a correct answer.

Johnny sighed. "Yeah, I have a pretty good idea. Eclampsia, right?"

J.C.'s reaction would have been priceless if Johnny had been the type to glory in another's surprise at his abilities and intelligence. "Yeah, that's what that black doctor said. How did you know?"

"It's pretty common among my people due to the lack of prenatal care. I saw a lot of it growing up. Too much." He turned to Dixie. "Will she be staying here for long?"

"No, I don't believe so. She'll be referred to OB/GYN for further management." Dixie patted Johnny's hand, resting on the counter. "She'll be fine, Johnny."

"I have to wash my hands. Wait here," J.C. ordered curtly, striding off to the men's room.

Johnny stared after him, then at the floor, fidgeting with the HT. He tried to avoid the blonde nurse's interested gaze.

"Johnny? What's going on?"

The paramedic was trying to think of a suitable reply when the handi-talkie squawked with another call. "Duty calls. See ya later, Dix." He trotted down the hall, collecting his partner on the way to the squad.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Roy was surprised to find himself a little anxious about his first day as an instructor. At the Fire Academy he was assigned a classroom. He went to work setting it up for his first group of students. He placed books and some handouts on each desk. His class would contain 24 students. They would alternate between the Academy and the hospitals, one week with the doctors, two weeks in class.

Roy walked to the break room to get a cup of coffee. Recruits weren't allowed to leave the grounds for lunch, so there was a small canteen for those who didn't brown bag it. The canteen served sandwiches, salads and soup, as well as soft drinks, juice, milk, and that most necessary liquid, coffee. The canteen was run by a long retired firefighter.

"Hi, Jake."

"Roy DeSoto! Heard you were back here." Jake Collins poured the fresh brewed coffee into a thick china mug.

"Yeah, I'm teaching the new paramedic classes."

"Never thought I'd see the day you'd give up the field for a classroom. At least not while you're fit."

"I didn't either, Jake."

Firefighters were gossips, facts and rumors spreading at the speed of sound. Roy didn't engage in passing on gossip although he wasn't averse to listening. In this particular case, he didn't want his students to feel he didn't want to be there, even if it was true. Therefore he kept to himself that his transfer was involuntary.

Roy and Jake discussed old times and friends in common. Jake had worked at almost every station in the county during his lengthy career. He was now a fixture at the Academy.

"There are two paramedic instructors, right?" Jake asked as he prepared an array of cold cut sandwiches for later in the day.

"That's what I heard. And before you ask, I don't know who it is."

"It isn't Gage, your partner at 51?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"That's a shame. That boy would make a good teacher. He'll make a fine captain someday."

"Johnny? A captain?"

"What? Don't you think he could do it?"

"No, of course he could. It's just that he's always coming up with a get-rich scheme, I guess I never think of him staying with the department."

Jake shook his grizzled head. "That's just talk. They'll have to force him out at gunpoint. I remember that boy when he first came here." He smiled, lost for a moment in memories. "Skinny as a rail he was."

"Still is," Roy chuckled.

"Not like then. I used to make extra sandwiches, tell him to take 'em home so I didn't have to throw good food in the garbage. Poor boy was always hungry."

"Like I said, still is."

The old firefighter finished wrapping the sandwiches, moving them to the refrigerated unit before speaking again. "Johnny thinks a lot of you, considers you a good man, a friend. How much do you know about his family life?"

"Well, not much really. I think his parents died before he entered high school. Then he went to live with his aunt."

"By the time I met him, he was living in his car or at the Y.M.C.A."

"The Y? But…I know his aunt was alive. Still is, in fact."

"She lives in a nursing home now." Jake began preparing the three types of soup he served for lunch. "She started getting sick after John graduated from high school. It kept him out of college, he had to hustle to support them both. Money was tight."

"You seem to know a lot about my partner."

"Johnny visits me here on occasion. He even helps me serve at lunch when he comes here. Sometimes we talk about the job, sometimes personal stuff. He always keeps an eye out for recruits who are in the same position he was financially and personally."

Roy blinked.

"When he joined the department that young man found a new home." Jake tasted the chicken noodle soup, adding pepper and a pinch of parsley before covering it with a metal lid. "Then he became partnered with you. He found a brother and still another family. He carries your kids' pictures in his wallet."

"I didn't know that. Since he discovered photography as a hobby, Johnny's always taking pictures of us. He usually gives us the prints after he's developed them."

"He's gonna miss you, Roy."

Roy bristled. "Johnny's my friend. We'll still stay friends, this isn't going to change that."

Jake shook his head. "You say that now, Roy, and I know you mean it, but…"

"But what?"

"But with you working normal hours and Johnny still on shift schedule, you'll see each other less and less."

"That's what Johnny said. It isn't true!"

"Be honest. When you became a firefighter, how many of your civilian friends did you stay in contact with, close enough contact to go out with to dinner or other events?"

The paramedic instructor remembered weekend events missed because he was working, dinner invitations that faded away due to Roy's lack of availability. "This is different. We're both still firefighters, we both understand how our jobs run."

Jake didn't reply at first, busying himself preparing the canteen for the onslaught of students and instructors. When he did speak again, he did so without looking at the younger man. "What are you and your family doing this weekend?"

"We're taking the kids to the fair."

"Would Johnny normally go with you?"

"Sure. He and Chris go on all the rides Jo and I don't like. I just haven't called him about it yet."

"On Saturday?"

"Yeah."

"It's only three days since you worked A-shift. What's the schedule for this weekend?"

Roy opened his mouth to reply, but no sound emerged. Saturday was a work day. Johnny wouldn't be able to participate. "I forgot." He dropped into a nearby chair. "I forgot. It's not been a week yet and I still forgot."

"DeSoto! Congrats on getting this gig." Paramedic Adam Wesselmann strode into the room, flashing his expensive capped teeth.

Roy cringed. Wesselmann wasn't his idea of a professional paramedic, much less a person Roy would choose as an instructor for new recruits. In his opinion, an instructor needed to be enthused about the program and the job. Adam was neither.

Wesselmann was protected by his relationships, son of a city councilman and nephew of an influential Chief. If he was incompetent or dangerous to their victims, not even his relatives would be able to save him. But the ginger-haired man was an adequate paramedic, just bone idle.

"This will do wonders for my love life. Bet Gage wishes he was here. That boy needs all the help he can get."

Roy tried to gain control of his thoughts. "I didn't know who the co-instructor was, so I went ahead and prepared the lessons. Do you have any preferences on what topics you want to teach?"

"You just go ahead and teach. I'll be there to back you up, pass out papers, whatever else needs to be done. I took this to get out of work for a while, not to do more!" He reached over the counter to snatch a large peanut butter cookie to go with his self-served mug of coffee.

"That'll be seventy-five cents," Jake said, holding his hand out for the money.

"Sheesh, the instructors have to pay?" Adam dug out three quarters, slapping them in Jake's callused palm. Taking a healthy bite of the cookie, crumbs dropping to the floor, Adam sauntered out of the room.

Jake and Roy exchanged glances, Roy's pained while Jake's was sympathetic and tinged with humor. Roy glanced at his watch, checking the time. "Gotta get to work."

"Good luck, teach!"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

The station phone rang in the afternoon, answered by the nearest man, Marco Lopez. "Station 51, Firefighter Lopez, how may I help you?" He broke out in a grin. "Roy! How are you? Johnny? Sure, let me get him."

Johnny came trotting into the room at Marco's call, grabbing the phone receiver up eagerly. "Hey, partner, how's the teaching biz?"

"Pretty good. I wanted to call you before you might make any plans. Feel like coming over for dinner tomorrow night? Jo's fixing meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and creamed corn."

"Mmmm, sounds great. Sure, I'd love it. What time?"

The men made their dinner arrangements, chatted a bit more, then Johnny hung up with a sigh. A gentle smile flitted across his face.

"How is he, John?" Captain Stanley asked, looking up from his clipboard.

"He sounds good. I'll probably find out more tomorrow night at dinner."

"Bet you're looking forward to that."

"Gage is just looking for the free food Joanne provides," Chet quipped.

"Ha ha, Kelly. You're just jealous 'cause you weren't invited." With a smirk at his nemesis, Johnny headed back to the dorm to finish mopping the floors.

Carlyle followed him from the room, unseen by the rest of the crew who were discussing their former crewmate. He managed to walk up behind Gage, leaning into him as he spoke harshly into the other man's ear. "You better remember something, boy. I'm your partner, not DeSoto. And I don't appreciate being ignored or insulted by you."

Johnny froze, well aware of the menace in the warning. "I didn't mean anything by that, J.C. Roy's been my partner since I became a paramedic. It's just how I think of him."

"Then I'd suggest you think again. I might not like you nor want you as my partner, but I won't be dismissed by you either. For better or worse, we're partners, and you will refer only to me that way. Understand?"

"Y-yeah, sure." Johnny felt the pressure of a knee in the small of his back, then he was alone again, Carlyle having left the dorm. Shaky, he dropped onto the nearest cot. It wasn't the first time that he had felt uncomfortable with his coworker, but it was the first time he felt seriously threatened. He was afraid that it wouldn't be the last time.

~ E! ~

"Johnny!" Joanne took the dark-haired man in her arms, hugging him tightly. "How I've missed you."

She leaned back, looking into his face. "Roy will be back in a few minutes. I sent him to get milk from the store. We ran out before I got to the mashed potatoes. The children will be so thrilled to see you."

Johnny felt himself relax as her chatter washed over him. He had missed the family who had adopted him as one of their own years earlier. "Where are they?"

"Upstairs washing dirty hands and faces. Come into the kitchen and tell me what's been going on since Roy left."

Johnny talked about their runs, mentioned Roy's replacement with just a couple of quick words, and redirected the conversation to the DeSoto family. Luckily, before Joanne could begin questioning him again, the children arrived.

"Uncle Johnny! Uncle Johnny!" Jennifer threw her small arms around Johnny's neck as he sat at the kitchen table, peeling the potatoes.

"Easy, princess. Watch out for the knife." He put the knife down in the middle of the table before giving the seven year old a tight hug. Putting her to one side, his arm still curled around Jennifer's waist, he turned his attention to the waiting nine year old. "Hey, Chris. Lookin' good." He punched the boy lightly in the arm in the universal greeting of men.

Chris grinned, returning the gesture. "Thanks, Uncle Johnny. I'm sure glad you came to dinner. I've gotta show you this gnarly skateboard that Dad got me."

"Gnarly, huh?"

"Yeah. It's got these cool decals and really goes fast."

"And you, Mr. Gage, will not try it out," Joanne ordered. "I have no intentions of my dinner being interrupted by a squad run and a trip to Rampart."

"Awww, mom," Chris protested.

"Yeah, aw, mom. I won't need a squad."

"Roy told me about the last time you got on a skateboard. If I remember correctly, it involved a steep driveway and a cactus."

Johnny squirmed uncomfortably before giggling. "Yeah, but Roy didn't have to call a squad. And I certainly didn't need Rampart for a skateboard ride."

"Only through dumb luck," offered Roy DeSoto, walking into the kitchen with two bags.

"Roy, since when does one gallon of milk require more than one grocery bag?" Joanne took the brown sacks from her husband, peering inside. "Ah, you got some beer. I forgot we were almost out." She turned a smile on Roy. "Why don't you take a couple of cold ones and go outside with your partner? Dinner will be a while yet."

Once outside, Roy sipped at his beer and contemplated his friend. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Johnny, I noticed the grimace when Joanne called you my partner."

"It's just..."

"Yeah?"

"It's just something J.C. said when he heard me call you that on the phone."

"What?"

"Nothing really. He just didn't like it. I mean, he's right. You're not really my partner, but I'm just used to saying it, ya know?"

"Yeah, I know. I do the same thing."

Not willing to let Roy know just how bad things were with J.C. Carlyle, Johnny pursued the subject of teaching. They spent the next thirty minutes discussing the latest group of paramedic trainees, but never actually talked about how Roy was missing being in the field.

Joanne, able to hear them through the kitchen window as she mashed the boiled potatoes, shook her head. _Men_. _Heaven forbid they should talk to each other honestly._

Dinner was enjoyable, but the subject matter of their talk stayed with non-work related subjects. After dinner, the family played Monopoly, Johnny cheating by passing Jennifer and Chris money when they ran out. After the children went to bed, Johnny spent some time drinking coffee and chatting with the adults before he called it a night.

"Thanks, Jo, Roy. I really enjoyed this evening."

"It was nice seeing you again. Be careful driving home," Joanne said, giving the younger man a hug.

"Take it easy, Johnny." Roy added as he watched his friend climb into his battered white Land Rover and drive off into the darkness.

Roy and Joanne wrapped their arms around each other as they slowly walked back into the house. Roy's mind was on his friend. "Did Johnny seem strange to you?"

"Strange? In what way?"

"He didn't talk about his new partner at all."

Joanne gathered up the empty coffee cups and saucers, taking them to the kitchen. She rinsed the cups out before placing them in the dishwasher, a Christmas present from her husband two years earlier. "Maybe he didn't want to make you jealous."

Roy leaned back against the opposite counter. "No, I don't think that's it. You have to understand him. When Johnny is mildly upset, he lets everyone know. When he's happy, he's bursting at the seams, shouting it to the world. But when something really hurts Johnny, really hurts him, physically or emotionally, he clams up. Totally shuts down. I got a whiff of that tonight."

"He talked all evening."

"But it was inconsequential things. He mentioned everyone at the station except Carlyle. Not one word about the man he works with each and every shift." Roy shook his head as he followed his wife on her trip through the house, checking that windows were closed and doors locked. "I don't like it."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"I can't believe people are so stupid. I mean, why would she let her kid stand up in the car…."

"Gage, for chrissake, shut the hell up," J.C. snapped. "Nobody's interested in your ranting and raving. Nobody's ever been interested."

Shocked, Johnny sputtered to a stop. "I…you…I didn't…"

"Can you keep your mouth shut for two minutes? Just two lousy minutes?"

"O-okay." Johnny threw quick glances at his new partner as they drove the squad back to the station. He didn't say another word, not wanting to make things worse. It seemed like nothing he did satisfied his man. After three months of working together, they weren't any closer to being true partners.

Johnny backed the squad into the station, carefully aligning it on the marks on the concrete floor. His partner jumped out of the vehicle, slamming the door and stalking off without a word. Johnny climbed out slowly, glancing at the dayroom where J.C. had gone. With a deep sigh, Johnny walked to the opposite side.

"Where's Gage?" Chet looked past J.C. as he asked.

"Who knows?" J.C. headed for the refrigerator. "What's there to eat?"

"Did you have a bad run?" Chet persisted.

"Nah, everything went well, despite the Red Wonder."

Chet frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Just that I've heard so much about the great John Gage and Roy DeSoto. Seems to me that DeSoto must've been the real talent in the pair. I can't understand why he carried Gage for so long."

Chet got to his feet and walked out. He was determined to find Johnny. He searched out back and in the Rover, then went to the dorm. He found Johnny sitting on his bunk, his back against the brick divider. His Pigeon was also his friend and, right now, he looked like he could use one. Chet sat on the bed across from Johnny, not saying anything, just keeping him company.

The silence continued, Johnny never looking up from his clenched hands.

"Hey, Gage? What's up?"

Johnny shrugged, still not raising his head.

"Johnny?"

Still nothing.

"Hey, buddy, talk to me. I wanna help."

At this, Johnny looked up and tried to smile. "There's nothing you can do, Chet. But thanks."

"Tell me."

"I guess…I mean, you can't get along with everybody, can you?"

"You do."

Johnny chuckled. "Thanks, Chet, but I know better."

"What happened?"

Johnny shrugged again. "I was talking, ya know. And…J.C. told… me…not to."

"He told you to shut up?"

The paramedic nodded.

"You and I are always saying that to each other."

"It was…different. He meant it, Chet."

"Huh." The two men sat for a while longer, then Chet got to his feet. "Want something to eat? I made sandwiches for lunch."

"Nah, thanks anyway. I'm not really hungry." Johnny smiled faintly. "Hey, Chet?" he called as Chet walked away.

"Yeah?" The mustached firefighter looked back.

"Thanks."

Chet waved a hand as he disappeared through the doorway. As he walked back to the dayroom, he began to think about their newest member. He had hit it off with J.C. almost immediately, the two men palling around on and off work. On nights that they went out to have a few beers, Chet had mentioned asking Marco or Johnny to come along, but J.C. would respond along the lines of keeping it to the two of them. Or other times it would be a crack about the drinking abilities of Indians or Mexicans. Although it made Chet a little uncomfortable, he took it as just a joke.

As time went on, he was beginning to see that J.C. wasn't friendly with either man. The paramedic was respectful to Captain Stanley and polite to Mike Stoker, kidded around with Chet and egged him on in the practical joke department, but when it came to Marco or Johnny, it was as if they didn't really exist outside of the job.

It was changing the station and, for the first time, Chet realized just how much. Johnny was becoming more and more isolated, so quiet that some days Chet couldn't remember if Johnny had said one word outside of business.

The old Johnny seemed to appear only after visiting Roy and his family, and that didn't last long. Chet walked into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, his mind on what was happening in the station. He didn't see Mike until the engineer spoke.

"Problems, Chet?"

"Oh, hi, Mike. No. Maybe. I don't know." He sipped at the coffee, a frown on his face.

"Well, that was succinct." Mike sat back in his chair and watched as Chet drifted off in thought. He had learned long ago that if a person was patient, all would be revealed.

"Where's J.C.?" Chet asked, the frown still on his face.

"He went out back. I think he's cleaning his car."

Chet nodded. He finished his coffee and washed the cup out before speaking again. "What do you think of him?"

Mike didn't answer for a moment. He looked carefully at Chet, trying to discern the reason for the question. Seeing that his crewmate was serious, he decided to tell the truth. "I don't like him. I'm not certain I trust him either."

"Why didn't you say anything before?"

"It was just my opinion."

"And mine," Marco said, appearing in the doorway.

"I know he and Gage aren't getting along, but I didn't notice any problems between the two of you and him."

"That's because you didn't want to see, amigo." Marco sighed, moving to sit beside Mike. "Our new paramedic made it quite clear that people like us, Johnny and I, were less than acceptable to him as coworkers."

Chet shook his head, unable to believe that he was so blind. "Man, I'm sorry, Marco. I didn't know."

"Don't worry about it. Just because Carlyle doesn't like us doesn't mean you and he can't be friends."

"But it's not right."

Marco shrugged. "It's what it is."

Before the puzzled man could respond, the tones rang out, station after station called out for a large apartment fire. The men of Station 51 answered the call, shrugging into turnouts and slapping on helmets as they climbed into their vehicles.

~ E! ~

Roy was in the canteen, listening to the dispatchers on Jake's scanner while he nibbled on a cheese sandwich. He heard Station 51's tones and response to the call out and sighed.

"Miss it, don't you?" Jake, having finished serving the ravenous hordes of probationary firefighters and paramedic trainees, sat down across from Roy at the small table. When Roy looked curiously at him, Jake nodded to the radio. "Being out there, working to save the world."

"Well, maybe we didn't save the world, but I think we did save a small portion of it." Roy smiled. "Yeah, I miss it. More so when Johnny's over for dinner and tells me what calls they went out on."

"So you're keeping up with him?"

"Thanks to you, I've made a special point of it. We usually get together at least once every other week."

Jake watched the smile disappear and wondered at the cause. "Problems?"

"I don't know. He's changed. Even Joanne noticed it. She thinks it's just because he misses me, but I think it's more than that. There's something wrong. I just can't figure out what it is."

"Have you met his partner, Carlyle, yet?"

"No. Do you know him?"

Jake grimaced. "Yeah, you might say so. He had to go through basic training here before they certified him as a paramedic for the County."

"You didn't like him?"

Jake hesitated. "I don't know if I should say anything, especially since Johnny didn't tell you, but..."

"But? C'mon, Jake, if you know something, tell me!" 

"Okay, okay. I didn't like the way he treated some of the other students."

"How?"

"He didn't seem to care for those of minority persuasion."

"Carlyle is prejudiced?"

"That's the way I saw it. Maybe I misread things."

"Except you don't think so."

Jake shook his head. "No. And that makes me wonder how he and Johnny are getting along."

"As well as with Marco." Roy looked at his watch, then got to his feet. "I've got to get back to the classroom. If you see Wesselmann, tell him to get to the class."

"Not working out there either?"

"Not really. I'm doing all the teaching." In a rare moment of complaint, Roy continued. "I'm lucky I can get him to sit in class."

"You gonna report him?"

"Not yet. I'm still hoping he'll change, but I've just about had it with him." With that, Roy got to his feet and walked out of the canteen.

Jake turned the radio up as the students hurried back to their classes, listening with one ear while wiping off the tables of stray crumbs and the odd crumpled napkin. Just as he was almost done, he heard the call that every firefighter dreads - a mayday from a trapped firefighter, a firefighter whose safety would be of immediate concern for one particular instructor. After a moment's hesitation, Jake grabbed a towel, wiped his hands off and hurried to DeSoto's classroom.

When the door was opened in response to his knock, Jake didn't have to say a word. His face said it all.

"Johnny," Roy whispered before he curtly turned the class over to his co-instructor and strode out of the room to join Jake. "Adam, take over."

"But...but..." Wesselmann looked at the puzzled students, then at Roy's fast disappearing back. He gulped, then fumbled for the instructor guide in an effort to determine what was being discussed. He really should have been paying more attention, he admonished himself. But Adam didn't think he'd have to actually do anything.

~ E! ~

The smoke was erupting from the first floor of the four story apartment building when Engine 51 pulled up to get their assignment. Although not exceptionally tall, the apartment complex covered a city block with a center garden hidden from street view.

Squad 51 maneuvered down the street, parking safely out of the way of the engines and trucks, but near enough that the two paramedics could avail themselves of their equipment as needed. J.C. and Johnny hurried to where Captain Stanley stood with the Chief. Both men carried their SCBAs with them.

"You two join Brice and Bellingham, make certain that everyone is out of the building," the Battalion Chief ordered them. "Take the third floor. Brice, you and your partner sweep the second floor. Squad 15 is already on the fourth. The fire is spreading fast, gentlemen, so make it quick."

The four men trotted to the entrance of the apartment building. They quickly donned their tanks, tightened their helmets and, in reaction to the smoke pouring out of the entryway, pulled their masks over their faces. With a nod, they headed into the building.

The search was revealing no one left behind, but they continued down the third floor hallway, Brice and Carlyle searching on the right while Johnny checked the rooms on the left.

At the back stairwell, Johnny waved down to Bellingham, indicating an all-clear. The Animal waved back to show that he and Brice were finding the same thing on the second floor. Both men continued on with their respective search.

As they checked the last apartments on the third floor, Johnny felt the air change and turned to warn Carlyle. Before he could say anything the whole back room flashed over, the ball of flames separating him from J.C.

Bellingham and Brice heard and felt the roar of the flashover above. They could see the buildup of fire on their floor and quickly found a window. Climbing out on the ledge, they dropped onto a car parked in the alley running alongside the apartment building. Looking back, they saw flames burst through the window opening, fed by the oxygen outside the building. Both men hurried around to the front of the complex to report in.

Carlyle ducked into the small apartment to his right, running to the window overlooking the front street. Peering down, he spotted a seemingly sturdy roof that overhung the complex entrance. He jumped out, twisting his ankle as he landed awkwardly. Scrambling over the edge of the roof, he dropped to the ground, limping away without one backward look for his partner.

Johnny was stranded in a rolling mass of black smoke. He reached out to find the nearest wall, moving along it with his left shoulder pressed against it as he had been trained years earlier. He desperately searched for a window or door through which to escape, but couldn't see more than two inches in front of his face. He did, however, hear voices.

Remembering that he was carrying the HT, Johnny pulled it out and pressed the talk button, removing his mask to sound the alert. "Mayday, mayday. This is HT 51, Paramedic John Gage. I'm trapped on the third floor, Side C, rearmost apartment. My partner, Paramedic J.C. Carlyle, was last seen on Side B."

He sent the alert out twice, hearing the chatter of other units over the radio, and hoped that his call went through. He stumbled over various objects on the floor, furniture and debris from the bubbling ceiling, but continued reaching back to the wall. If he lost that contact, he was dead.

At last he reached an opening. He hoped for an exit, but when he banged his knee on porcelain, Johnny realized that he was in a bathroom. He had rammed into a toilet. Continuing to search, he found a very small window above the commode. He used his helmet to break the glass, pushing the sharp shards from the opening, then threw it out the window to alert his comrades of his location and sent another mayday call out. Because he could no longer ascertain J.C.'s location, he merely stated that the other man might also be trapped. Again he received no reply, uncertain if he had even been heard over the radio chatter.

The smoke was thick and the heat from the fire in the hallway made the bathroom a veritable sauna. Johnny climbed onto the toilet seat, sticking his head out the window for cooler air as well as checking for a chance of escape. He was willing to jump out if necessary.

Looking down, Johnny realized that jumping could be almost as dangerous as staying in the room. There was a fence below, fancy metal work with sharp spikes along the top. The space between the building and the fence was very narrow, leaving little room for error for a jump.

In addition, if he could jump farther out and manage to miss the fence, the rear of the building's property sloped sharply down, making the drop increase from three stories to a little over four, a much more dangerous proposition.

He was almost out of options. Then he saw a familiar face appear below him. "Kelly!"

"On my way, Gage. Hang on!" Chet Kelly was carrying a ladder, assisted by Marco Lopez. Within moments they had the ladder propped against the building, both men holding it tightly upright in the small passageway as Johnny dumped his SCBA in the bathroom. He wiggled out the window, climbing down to safety.

"Thanks, guys."

"You're welcome," Marco replied, slapping Johnny on the back where his coat smoldered. Taking Johnny's HT, he cancelled the mayday.

"Carlyle's still..." Johnny began, only to be cut off by a suddenly irate Chet Kelly.

"He's safe. He bailed out a window. J.C. didn't even let us know you were still inside. Your call came just as the Animal and Brice alerted us that you two might be trapped."

Marco took over for the irate Irishman. "Chet's right. We're about to go storming in, looking for two missing men, when Brice catches sight of J.C., working on his own ankle." He grinned through sooty lips. "I didn't know Brice knew words like that."

Johnny picked his helmet up, brushing the interior out before placing it back on his head. "Brice cursed him out?" he asked as he picked up the end of the ladder and followed his crewmates to the front of the building.

"Oh, yeah! He was ticked that J.C. failed to follow procedures and report that he was out," Marco replied.

Chet nodded. "When we realized that we couldn't get to you by going inside, that we only had one man to rescue, we grabbed the ladder. Figured we'd either climb in and find you or you'd be at a window and climb out yourself."

"Well, thanks, guys, for coming after me."

"You'd do the same," Chet responded, with a cheeky grin as he hefted the ladder higher.

Back at the front of the building, Marco and Chet turned Johnny over to Captain Stanley before returning to fight the fire that now engulfed both the second and third floors.

"Get yourself over to Bellingham, have him check you out," Stanley ordered gruffly.

"I'm okay, Cap, honest." It didn't even occur to Johnny to wonder why his captain chose Bellingham rather than Carlyle, his partner.

"Maybe so, but let him look you over anyway." Stanley returned to the fire.

Johnny reluctantly obeyed. He suffered through the thorough inspection. It wasn't until the Animal noticed a slice in his glove and pulled it off that Johnny felt the pain. The thick material had been cut while clearing the bathroom window of glass, allowing the heat in and giving his hands first degree burns.

"You'll need these cleaned, Johnny."

"Yeah, okay."

Carlyle limped near. "See you made it out, Gage."

"No thanks to you," Bellingham growled. "I don't know how they do it where you come from, but here we look out for each other. We damn well make certain we know where our partner is and let others know when we don't. Get it?"

The paramedic's eyes turned even colder at the admonishment. "Don't presume to lecture me."

"You're lucky he doesn't do more," Brice said, appearing behind the group. He pushed his glasses back up his nose. "There are procedures to follow, Carlyle. Whatever personal issues you might have with Gage, you still must follow the book."

Johnny was startled. Brice had noted the tension between him and J.C.? He would have to be more careful to keep anyone else from noticing. Personal conflicts had no place in the fire service. That was something with which he agreed on with Brice.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Roy had waited through dinner to bring up the subject of the fire. Joanne, seeing that look on her husband's face, managed to distract Chris and Jennifer with the treat of eating a piece of pie in the living room. She joined the children in order to supervise, leaving the two men alone.

"So, Johnny, anything special happen at work yesterday?"

Johnny blinked, licking his fork clean of Cool Whip, before shaking his head. "Nope, not really."

"Nothing at all?"

"Just the usual. Man down, woman down, difficulty breathing, same old calls."

"No structure fires?" Roy pressed, leaning forward to look his friend in the face.

Johnny began to squirm. He couldn't imagine how Roy could've found out about the near miss. "Uh...well..."

"No maydays? No 'man lost in fire' calls?"

"Uh, well, uh, just...man, how did you know?"

"Jake has a scanner in the canteen, remember? He came to get me when he heard your mayday. When were you planning to tell me about this?"

"Later...never," Johnny flashed a lopsided smile. "It was no big deal. I wasn't hurt."

Roy reached out to take Johnny's hand, examining the scattered blisters and pinkened flesh. "Just a little burn?"

"Yeah, that's all. No worse than when cinders get into the collar of our turnouts. Honest, Roy, I'm fine."

"Was Carlyle with you?"

"We were searching, you know, like we used to? J.C. took one side of the hallway, I took the other. It flared up and we got separated. He managed to get out right away. It took me a little longer."

Roy sat looking at Johnny until he realized that he would get no more from his suddenly reticent partner. "Want another piece of pie?"

"Sure, that'd be nice. Okay if I get a glass of milk instead of coffee?"

"That sounds great. I think I'll have a glass as well." _And if you think this is over with, John Gage, you've got another think coming._

~ E! ~

"This was nice of you, Roy, inviting us to breakfast." Marco looked around the diner, puzzled at who was missing. "But why didn't you want us to mention it to Johnny?"

"Because he's the reason for this get-together, isn't he?" Mike guessed.

"I want to know what's going on with Johnny and Carlyle."

"I see. You know, it isn't really our place, Roy. Maybe you should talk to your partner," Marco said with a grimace.

"You know Johnny, loyal to a fault. Plus, he doesn't want to tell tales."

"Or worry you. Especially when he knows there isn't much you can do about it."

"So there is some reason to worry?"

His former coworkers looked at each other without speaking.

"Well?"

Chet shrugged. "We might as well tell him. Marco, you know more about what's going on than any of us."

"Except maybe Johnny," Mike commented.

Marco nodded slowly, taking a deep breath before beginning. "Do you know anything about Station 118?"

Startled by the sudden shift of topic, Roy fumbled for an answer. "Uh, well, sure. It's in the northern part of the county. I think…I think that Johnny worked there for a while." Roy didn't understand the point of the question. "Back in 1969, if I remember right."

"So did I, about two years earlier than that. After eight months, I transferred to Station 11. Do you know how long Johnny was there?"

Frowning, the paramedic tried to recall long ago conversations. "A little over a year, maybe 18 months. Why?"

"You've never done any overtime there?"

"No, never have. It's too long a drive from home to make it worthwhile."

"If you ask around, you'll find that certain types of firefighters don't stay there very long."

"Certain types?"

"Types like Stony. Or Johnny."

"Or you," Roy said flatly.

Marco nodded grimly. "Yeah, any firefighter who isn't white. There were always jokes, the kind that aren't repeated in polite company. I don't know what he went through while he was there, but…"

Chet interrupted. "I do. Some of it anyway. After I acted like an ass over his heritage, we went out for a drink. Gage told me how he'd find plastic tomahawks in his locker, arrows stuck in his mattress. One time he found a diorama of a massacre with one dead Indian figure dressed in fire gear in his car."

"Why didn't he report it? That sounds like a threat to me." Roy was shocked, but now understood why his partner would never take an overtime shift at that station.

"Complain and you're marked as a troublemaker, a tag that will follow you all through your career," Marco explained.

"You'll be told you're too sensitive, that it's just a joke, a little firehouse humor," Chet added.

Mike chimed in. "Then there's the possibility that your captain is in on it, which means your complaint goes nowhere."

"Which is more a probability for that station."

"Are you saying Carlyle is like that? Prejudiced?"

"He's not as blatant as Station 118's men, but it's there nonetheless." Marco shrugged. "Of course, all we see is what happens when we're all together."

"And not much of that."

Roy faced the quiet engineer. "What do you mean, Mike?"

"Johnny mostly keeps to himself, hardly says a word."

"Yeah," Chet agreed. "He's almost as quiet as Mikey now."

"Johnny?"

"Roy, he doesn't joke around, doesn't rant or rave, no date recounting. You're lucky if you even see him other than at meal time or doing chores."

Roy could see by the worry on Chet's face that he was sincere. "What does Cap think?"

"There's not much he can really do, Roy. Most of whatever is going on happens out of his view. Johnny doesn't complain, officially or unofficially."

Roy was stunned. "This is worse than I imagined." He blew out his breath all at once.

The waitress brought their food and the men dug in. They thought the uncomfortable conversation was all over and began to relax, asking their former coworker about his teaching and who was in the class. After they finished breakfast, they all sat with their coffees, lulled into complacency.

Then Roy struck. "Which one of you wants to tell me how the hell Johnny was left behind in a burning building?"

"Carlyle," Chet spat out, his anger rising once again. "He left Gage, got himself out and didn't bother to notify anybody."

"He left Johnny? Alone?"

"Got it in one."

"How could he not report his partner's last known position? That's standard procedure!" Roy couldn't conceive of such an action.

"Carlyle didn't." Mike explained further. "He claimed he was unaware that Johnny was trapped. At least that's his official statement."

"So he was questioned? There was some sort of inquiry?" Roy persisted.

"Somewhat of one," Marco replied. "The real problem is, there's no real proof that Carlyle did it on purpose, that he knew exactly where Johnny was and that he deliberately abandoned him to his fate."

"What did Johnny say?"

Roy watched as his friends exchanged puzzling looks once again. "Tell me they asked Johnny about what happened."

The answer wasn't quick in coming nor was it what Roy wanted to hear.

"He didn't say much at all. Claimed it might've been possible that Carlyle thought he had gotten out." Chet shook his head.

"So they go on working together, with nobody watching Johnny's back." Roy was disgusted.

"We're watching as best we can, Roy, I promise you." Marco frowned. "But you know as well as I do that we can only do so much. We don't go with the squad on every call. We need to do more."

"Like?"

"Find out why he suddenly moved from San Francisco to Los Angeles. He's not married, doesn't have any family here," Chet said. "So why did he suddenly move?"

With that question hanging in the air, the men of Station 51 headed home to catch up on sleep and chores. Roy watched them leave with a sad and troubled heart. Something was definitely wrong, but Roy didn't really know if there was anything that could be done, not if J.C. carefully toed the line.

~ E! ~

Roy waited until after the children's breakfast was over and they were upstairs playing before reporting the conversation to his wife. "It explains a lot, like why he's so subdued at first when he comes over."

Joanne nodded. "Until the kids work on him, remind him that he's a member of the family. Roy, are you sure it's not just a personality conflict?"

"The guys seem to be pretty sure, but I'd like to see for myself."

"How?"

"Well, we normally have a cookout for the gang here every summer. Why not have one as usual, invite Carlyle and the rest of A-shift, and watch how he acts around Johnny and the others?"

Joanne bit her lip, considering. "It'll have to be a Saturday or Sunday. You'll need to check their work schedule to see when we can do it. And I think we should invite your friends from Rampart, too. Just as we'd normally do."

"Good idea, honey. I'll see when their first free weekend will be." Roy moved closer to Joanne, wrapping his arms around her. "Thanks, babe."

"You're welcome, sweetheart. Now that we've settled that, and the children are occupied, how about some personal attention?"

Roy grinned, sweeping his wife up over his shoulder.

She giggled, beating on his back with her fists. "Let me down, fire boy! Chris and Jenny aren't that occupied."

As if to prove the point, Roy heard the clatter of feet coming down the stairs, stopping abruptly at the entrance to the kitchen.

"Oh, yuck, they're doin' it again. Daa-aad!"

Roy turned to face his son, not releasing Joanne. "Yes, Chris?"

"Can Jen and I have some Kool-Aid?"

"May Jen and I," Joanne corrected.

"May Jen and I have some Kool-Aid?"

"Yes, you may. Roy, put me down."

Reluctantly he did, then was shooed out into the backyard to play with the children after she poured them the Kool-Aid in colorful plastic tumblers. "I have things to do if we're to have everyone over in a few weeks. I'll need to make a list. The house and yard need to be cleaned and trimmed. We'll all have a lot to do in a very short time."

Roy came to attention, saluting his wife. He ruined the effect by breaking out into an infectious grin. Chris just nodded, darting outside before he could be put to work, clutching the tumblers, one in each hand.

"Don't run!" Joanne called.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

While accompanying his class to Rampart for more detailed medical instructions, Roy passed out the invitations to the Annual DeSoto Cookout.

Dixie slid hers into her uniform pocket. "I'm so glad you and Joanne are doing this, even if you're not at 51 any longer. What can I do to help?"

Roy held his hands up. "Don't ask me. I've already got my orders. Call the General and ask her."

Dixie laughed, but it died away when she saw the two men approaching her station, one of whom was covered in mud and limping. She hurried out from behind the nurses' station. "Johnny? Do you need a doctor?"

John Gage flashed her a weary grin. "Yeah, 'fraid so. Can I use the shower before someone checks my leg? It's been cut." He looked down at the brown puddle on the floor. "Sorry about the mess. I had Chet hose me down a little, but it really didn't help much."

"Of course you can. Come with me. I'll get you some scrubs."

"Hey, Roy." Johnny waved at his friend. "Everyone okay?"

"Everyone's fine. I'm just here with my class. What happened to you?"

"Let me get cleaned up and I'll tell you…" Johnny's voice trailed off as his current partner stared at him. "Uh, J.C. can…he can tell you, uh, everything. J.C., this is Roy DeSoto. He used to be…he was my…Roy worked as a paramedic on our shift."

Roy took note of how carefully Johnny avoided use of the word 'partner' when speaking about him as well as how he didn't look straight at the other man. "Go ahead, Johnny. Get taken care of."

Roy watched Johnny hobble off, accompanied by the head nurse, before turning to face Carlyle. "So you're J.C. Carlyle, Johnny's new partner?" He held his hand out, slightly surprised at the enthusiasm of the other man's handshake.

"And you're the famous Roy DeSoto! It's a pleasure to meet you."

"I don't know about famous. Would you like a cup of coffee while you wait for Johnny to get done in the shower?"

"Great idea! I'd like that, Roy. Let's go to the lounge to wait for Gage to get done whining to Morton."

The two men walked to the doctors' lounge, Roy controlling his instinctive need to challenge J.C.'s statement. After pouring out a cup for both of them, Roy sat down.

"What happened? Johnny's a mess. And did he say something about a cut on his leg?"

"More likely a scratch. His kind over dramatize every little scrape, looking for a way out of work." J.C. sipped at his coffee. "It was no big deal, just a stupid kid caught in one of the drainage runoff tunnels. The Red Wonder fell when some water came rushing through."

Roy had to wait until he could control his tone. "You didn't check his leg?"

"Nah, he took care of it." J.C. laughed. "After all, he claims to be a paramedic, doesn't he?"

 _What kind of bigot did the department hire?_ "And where did the mud and water come from?"

"Run off, Roy. Guess he forgot to have them shut down the water dumps before going in."

"You're pretty clean. You didn't go inside with him?" Roy's jaw was tightly clenched as he listened to Carlyle's indifference to his partner's safety.

"No reason for both of us to get dirty. In fact, I made him ride in on the back of the squad. Gotta keep the filth out of the truck, right?"

J.C. laughed again, but Roy couldn't join in, getting to his feet. "If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna check on Johnny, then catch up with my students. Oh, here." Roy reluctantly handed J.C. one of the invitations. "It's kind of a tradition to have a party at my house every year. My wife and I didn't see any reason to stop it, even if I'm not currently assigned there. All of A-shift will be there as well as some personnel from Rampart. Cap's wife will usually come and sometimes his daughters as well. The single guys come alone."

"Sounds like fun. I'd enjoy hanging out with you, Roy. It'll be nice to talk to a real professional."

Unable to hold his annoyance in any longer, Roy snapped, "Johnny is a professional."

J.C. just chuckled. "Of course he is. Officially."

"There's no…never mind. See you in a couple of weeks." Roy stalked out of the lounge in search of his friend. He spotted Dixie leaving Treatment Room Three with a plastic bag containing what appeared to be a mud-encased uniform.

"Johnny in there?" Roy asked the blonde nurse.

She nodded. "With Dr. Early."

"At least it's not Morton. After the day it seems Johnny's had, I don't think he could have handled Morton's usual lack of bedside manner."

"That's what I thought, so I specifically asked for Joe. Go on in, I think Johnny could use a friendly face right about now."

"Why?"

"He's going to be told that he's off duty for the rest of his shift."

"Because of the cut?"

"That cut was more a slice, a pretty deep one at that. It's almost to the bone."

"Ouch. Is that what Early's doing now? Stitching him up?"

"Not yet," Dixie replied. "First he has to irrigate the wound. Who knows what was in that water?"

"Yeah, I know." Roy slipped into the room, wincing as he saw the open wound.

"Hey, Junior. Really did a number on yourself this time."

Johnny's shoulders slumped, his head dropping as if expecting a blow. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I'll be more careful."

Roy stepped to his friend's side, appalled by the reaction to his teasing. He carefully touched Johnny on his back. "It's okay. It wasn't your fault."

"That's not what…" Johnny quit speaking abruptly, then hissed in pain as Joe Early dug into the gaping tissue to pull out more debris.

"Jeez, doc, didn't you give him a local?" Roy asked, gently rubbing the injured man's back in quiet support.

"I need to see if there's any nerve damage. It looks good in regards to that. You will need quite a few stitches to close this up." Dr. Joe Early patted Johnny's knee. "Hang on a little while longer, John. I'll give you some pain killer. "I'll be right back. Roy?"

"I'll keep an eye on him." Roy pulled a stool next to the examination table and sat down. "Johnny, what did you start to say?"

"Doesn't matter," he mumbled, trying to find a comfortable position.

"It does to me, partner."

Johnny lay back, putting his arm over his eyes. "It's not important."

 _I'm_ _not important._ Roy could hear it in his friend's very tone of voice. He sounded defeated. "Johnny, of course it's important. You are…"

The treatment room opened to admit Early, Dixie and a young student nurse pushing a tray table of instruments. Roy cursed the interruption, promising himself that it would be resumed later. On that he was determined. While he wasn't one for what some called 'touchy-feely' conversations, Roy also knew that sometimes it was needed.

"Let's get you sewn up, shall we?" As Early pulled the skin closed with neat black stitches, he kept up a soothing narrative. "Well, all done. Twenty-two stitches, my young friend. Dixie has a prescription for antibiotics and another for pain pills."

"I don't need the ones for pain."

"Mild pills, Johnny. You only have to take them if you need them, but I want you to fill the prescription, just in case."

"Can't work if I use 'em." Johnny persevered as he struggled to sit up, helped by Roy.

"You're off for the rest of this shift and your next. After that, we'll see."

"No! He'll blame me," the injured paramedic protested.

"Who? Your captain? I'll be calling him as soon as we're done here."

Johnny shook his head, then sighed. "No, not…not Captain Stanley."

"It'll be okay, Johnny. I swear, it'll be okay." Dixie took Johnny's hands in hers, her eyes on his.

"I'm just so tired, Dix."

"I know." She brushed his still damp hair from his face. "It's okay."

Adam Wesselmann stuck his head in the treatment room. "Has anybody seen…oh, there you are, Roy. The docs are done with the presentation and films. Ready to head back to the Academy?"

Roy looked from Adam to Johnny, torn between duty and friendship.

Dixie recognized the conflict. "Go on, Roy. We'll take good care of Johnny."

Roy reached over to grip the dark-haired man's arm. "I'll see you tonight. Right after work, okay? And we'll talk." He waited until Johnny acknowledged him with a faint nod, then turned to Adam. "I'll be there in a few minutes. Get them loaded in the van."

Adam waved, disappearing back into the hall.

"How will you get home? Can you drive like that?"

"I should be okay, 'cause it's my left leg."

"If you can't, call Joanne. She'll pick you up. Got it?"

Johnny's first genuine smile appeared. "Yes, mom, I will."

"Smartass," Roy said, gently tapping the other man on the head. "See you tonight. I'll bring dinner."

"Great, but stay with your kids and wife to eat first, okay? It's important."

"Okay, I will. But I'll be over right after." Roy walked out, almost running into an annoyed J.C. who was about to push his way into the treatment room. He held his hand up, halting the paramedic's progress. "Johnny's not done yet. You'll need to wait until Dr. Early is done stitching him up, then give him a ride back to the station. He's been pulled from duty. Cap's being advised."

J.C.'s mouth thinned. "Figures. Fine, I'll wait at the nurses' station."

"Give Johnny a break, will you? He's in a lot of pain and not happy about missing work." Roy received no answer, reluctantly having to leave.

For the rest of the day, Roy worried and wondered about his ex-partner's situation. He had called Joanne to warn her to cook extra food for him to take to Johnny's apartment.

"Roy? Roy!"

"What? Oh, sorry, Cal. My mind was on something else. What do you need?"

"I have some questions about this section on treating a victim who's high."

Roy focused back on his class filled with students eager to learn the mysteries of paramedic procedures. There would be time enough for Johnny's problems later.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Roy held the box containing foil-covered plates in his hands as he used his foot to knock on Johnny's apartment door. He waited patiently until the door finally opened.

"Wow, Roy. I knew you were bringing dinner, but that's a lot of plates," Johnny said, looking into the box. He led the way to his kitchen after Roy refused to let him take the box.

"Joanne didn't want you to starve. I've been given detailed instructions on how to get all this ready, so sit down and I'll start. Tell me, how are the guys doing? Is Chet still studying for the engineer's exam? It comes open again in a couple of weeks."

Johnny visibly relaxed at the mundane subject matters Roy discussed as he prepared the meal and set the table, moving from general work matters to his class to his family.

"So anyway, Jen's in the doghouse and I'm stuck sanding the side of the television set to remove her artwork."

"My poor girl." Johnny grinned. "She was just decorating, Roy. She's probably heard Joanne talk about doing that."

"Uh huh. Let me tell you, Jo was not amused. I don't think 'your poor girl' still understands what she did was wrong."

"That was the new set, not the old one?"

"Oh, yeah. Brand new and smack in the middle of the living room for all to see."

Johnny laughed. "I think it's kinda cute."

"You wouldn't have if it happened to your TV," Roy retorted. As he brought the warmed food to the table, something about Johnny's demeanor made Roy suspicious. He took a closer look at his friend's face. "She didn't!"

"It was just a little picture. Just a house and some flowers. Jen wanted me to have something pretty to look at."

"When?"

"It was after I had the hit and run accident and came home from the hospital. Remember how hard it was for me to get down the stairs to the pool and patio?" Johnny began eating as they talked.

"You never said a word."

"Jennifer meant well. I couldn't get her in trouble for trying to help."

"I hope you at least explained to her that it was wrong." Roy knew his daughter had her Uncle Johnny wrapped around her little finger. His soft-hearted friend couldn't say no to Jennifer.

"Of course! Well, yeah, I did. Sorta. I think."

"Uh huh. You are such a sap when it comes to my two."

Johnny swallowed some cold milk, shrugging. "They're good kids."

"Yeah, they are pretty good." Roy nibbled on an Oreo while Johnny made serious inroads on the food Joanne has sent to him. Soon though, even he had to surrender. Johnny pushed back from the table, wincing as his injured leg brushed against the table leg.

"Time to take your pills?" Roy asked, picking up the plates and repacking the leftovers.

"Yeah. The antibiotics have to be taken immediately after eating." Johnny reached for a small amber container sitting on the counter.

"And the pain pills?"

"Roy?"

"It's bothering you. I can see it. The pill will help you sleep."

"Okay, okay. You're right."

That speedy agreement told Roy more than words just how much pain his friend was in. "Go into the living room. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Roy walked into the living room and sat in Johnny's new recliner. Johnny was sprawled out on his couch. "Ready to talk now?"

"About what?"

The nonchalance might have fooled Roy if he hadn't seen Johnny tense up. "Carlyle. What's going on between you two?"

"Nothing."

"Johnny."

"Nothing." After a long pause, he blew his breath out. "Nothing you or I or anyone else can do a thing about."

"Tell me. Please."

Johnny leaned his head back on the couch arm, staring at nothing. "I've run into people before who didn't care to work with the redskin, with the Injun, with the filthy breed. Station 8 wasn't so bad, neither were most of the other stations that I've worked at since I was first hired. Except for Station 118, my first assignment. It was bad, really bad."

"I'm sorry."

"Jeez, Roy, you have nothing to be sorry for. The best thing that ever happened to me was meeting you. You're my best friend!"

"And you're mine, Johnny, I hope you know that. I want to help you, but I just don't know how."

"Like I said, nothing anyone can do."

"Maybe, maybe not."

Johnny sat up, leaning forward as he looked at his friend. "Just be patient with me when I get a little down, okay? Working with J.C. has brought back a lot of bad memories."

"I will, but don't let him bring you down, John. You're one of the finest men I've ever known, an intuitive and caring paramedic. Don't let him convince you otherwise."

Johnny's smile was sweet. "Thank…thanks, Roy. That's, uh, that's really nice to hear."

"Okay, enough schmaltz. Before I go, I wanted to tell you that Jo and I are holding the annual DeSoto grill as usual at our house." He tossed an envelope on the coffee table. "Here's your specially prepared invitation."

"Jennifer?" Johnny asked, seeing the crayon decoration on the envelope.

"And Chris. They both wanted to make certain their Uncle Johnny came. Before you say yes, I have to warn you that Carlyle will be there as well. I couldn't invite everybody else at the Station and not ask him."

"Of course not. It's okay, Roy. Tell the munchkins I'll be there."

"Good."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Two and a half shifts later, Johnny returned to work. He found himself looking over his shoulder as he changed into his uniform. The feeling of danger was an old memory as well as a new concern. J.C. frightened him, but Johnny couldn't decide if the man was actually a menace or his memories were coloring his judgment.

"Welcome back, Gage. How's your leg doing?" Chet opened his locker, hanging his extra uniforms inside.

Johnny smiled. "Thanks, Kelly. It's getting better. Early cleared me as long as I keep it wrapped and change the bandaging if it gets dirty or wet. Which on our job is a given."

The two men walked into the dayroom, Johnny heading straight for the coffee pot.

"Pour me one," Marco said, coming through the side door. "I need something to wake me up."

Johnny grinned. "The twins?" he asked, referring to Marco's twin nieces, both of whom were teething. He poured out three cups, handing the others theirs.

"Yes. As soon as we got Lucinda settled, Elena would start crying." He sipped at the steaming coffee. "I think I managed two hours sleep, if that."

Mike slipped through the three men, heading for his second cup of coffee. Once he achieved his objective, he moved to the side, leaning back against the counter while he sipped cautiously at the steaming hot elixir. He always arrived early to have time to speak to C-shift's engineer about possible engine issues, but this morning the earlier shift was still out on a call.

"How long will they be staying with you?" Chet asked, scrounging through the cabinets for cookies.

"Until next Friday. By then all the paint fumes in the new house should be gone."

Mike smiled as he watched Johnny find and hide a small package of shortbread cookies, pushing them behind the coffee cups. Johnny then raised his eyebrows at Mike in question, carefully revealing a golden square clutched in his hand. The engineer shook his head.

Unfortunately, just as Johnny shoved the cookie in his mouth, Chet turned around. "What do you have in your mouth? Gage!"

Johnny sprayed cookie crumbs as he tried to say "nothing", then started choking. Marco helpfully smacked him on the back while Mike got a glass of milk to wash the cookies down.

The atmosphere, the bickering and laughter, were so normal for Station 51's A-shift that it came as a rude shock when it ended.

"What the hell did you do now, Gage?" J.C. Carlyle stood in the doorway of the dayroom, a scowl on his face.

Johnny froze, pulling away from his crewmates. "N-nothing. We just…I was…cookie went down, uh, the wrong way."

"Christ, you can't even eat without a disaster occurring."

"S-sorry." Johnny brushed at crumbs on his uniform shirt. "I'll go clean up." He hurried out of the room.

Marco grimaced at Mike, then went and sat down at the table, accompanied by the engineer.

"Why'd ya do that?" Chet asked.

"Do what?"

"Jump Johnny as soon as you came in?"

J.C. looked at Chet, puzzled. "You've done the same thing yourself."

Chet shook his head vehemently. "Not like that. Not like you do. You mean it!"

"And you don't?" J.C. headed to the apparatus bay.

Chet looked at Mike and Marco, appalled. "It's not the same! I don't make him feel…little, do I?'

Mike spoke. "No, not usually. Johnny understands you're teasing. Carlyle isn't." He got to his feet, joining the others as they headed to roll call. "He wants Johnny to feel as unworthy as he believes him to be."

Captain Stanley was waiting, a clipboard in his hands. "Nice to see you back, John."

"Thanks, Cap," Johnny replied softly. For the first time, he didn't reply with his usual "it's good to be back."

Before Stanley could begin roll call, the rumble of the automatic door was heard. C-shift was back. A quick exchange of greetings and they were gone. Only their captain remained, heading to the office to write up the final report for his shift.

Once the men left and the noise died down, Captain Stanley resumed his announcements.

"First up, there's a charity fair to raise money for the young lady who was so badly burned during the Thompson warehouse fire. They're looking for volunteers to do setups and takedowns of the booths. Station 114 will be helping, but they could use some more strong backs and willing hands. The flyer is posted on the bulletin board along with the contact number." He flipped over a page.

"Second bit of business is the engineer's exam. You'll need to let me know if you're taking it so we can juggle the schedule. See me after roll call."

He waited to hear the usual teasing comments from his men regarding Chet's quest to place in the top 25 participants. Stanley's wait was in vain. No one spoke. With a heavy heart, he continued. "Due to increasing concerns that the public considers many government agencies as biased, the Department will be conducting mandatory classes on cultural and sexual harassment."

"Pandering again," Carlyle muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry, Captain Stanley, but that's the same kind of crap I went through in San Francrisco. Why those people have to make such a fuss, I'll never understand."

"Whatever your personal beliefs about minorities or women, while you wear that uniform, you will conduct yourself professionally at all times. You will not allow it to reflect in your tone of voice or mannerisms, either with the public or your coworkers."

Marco was startled by his supervisor's statement, but pleased by it. That it was directed at their newest member was obvious to all, even if their captain looked at each man individually.

"The class schedule will be given within the next few weeks. The station will be stood down during that time. Again, these are mandatory briefings."

After waiting for further comments and getting none, Captain Stanley doled out work assignments before dismissing his men.

~ E! ~

Everyone was pulled from their chores when the tones went off for a reported smoke investigation. Upon arrival, Captain Stanley noted and reported heavy smoke flowing from a multi-tenant commercial building, designating it as a working fire. He requested additional engines be dispatched.

The structure was a large 75-by-100-foot commercial building with a light-trussed, asphalt-shingled roof and intact skylights. The smoke was black and coming from the roof line. The heaviest concentration of smoke was from the two end units on the west side of the building.

As they climbed down from the engine, Captain Stanley couldn't see any building markings or signs that indicated what type of business they were dealing with. "Are any of you familiar with this place?"

"It's constantly changing, Cap. I've driven by here and seen at least four different tenants in the last year," Stoker replied. "I really don't know."

There were three large roll-up garage doors in the front and two in the rear. A door for personnel or possible customers was also in the front. Chet grabbed a sledge hammer from the engine and began breaking the two-by-five glass window to the right of the door. He reached his gloved hand in to try and reach the deadbolt locking mechanism without success. It wouldn't move.

Giving up, he ran back to the engine, grabbing the saw to force the door. Johnny and Marco stood nearby with their attack line ready. J.C. was dragging a second line to the rear when there was an explosion that rocked the building, sending the firefighters scurrying for cover. Heavy black smoke began flowing out of shattered windows, buckled doors and from the roof. J.C. climbed to his feet slowly, shaking his head. Stanley ordered the groggy man to stand down to recover.

Johnny and Marco entered through the front door, encountering heavy fire conditions. Chet and Stanley were in the rear of the building, manning the hose that J.C. had pulled there. They observed heavy smoke pouring out from the rollup doors on at least two other units. Stanley called for Stoker to cut the doors open to allow entry.

Engine 110 arrived and took to the roof, venting to help alleviate conditions inside the burning building.

"Cap!" Chet slapped his supervisor on the shoulder to get his attention. "This looks like an automobile body shop."

Stanley nodded, got on his HT to pass the word along. If true, there would be dangerous chemicals, acetylene and propane tanks inside. He requested dispatch of the foam truck.

Johnny and Marco pushed through the heavy smoke and heat, discovering a charred car deep inside the building. It appeared to the two men that the vehicle might be the starting point of the fire. There was heavy damage at the trunk area, buckled and ripped apart.

Once foam operations arrived, the fire was quickly put down.

The men of Station 51 were sprawled in the shade of the engine, having completed the overhauling of the burned building. Captains Stanley, Jenkins, and Dominguez were near the blackened remnants of the car found inside the auto shop.

"Do we know what caused it?" Chet asked as he poured water over the top of his head.

"They found what looked like a tank of nitrous oxide in the trunk of that car. Man, it was literally peeled apart," Johnny replied.

"Looked like it exploded," Marco added.

"It did." Stanley squatted next to where his men were resting. "Looks like it ruptured the car's gas tank. We were lucky that the explosion didn't spread the fire to the adjacent units."

"If we'd been even ten seconds faster, we might've been all dead. Or seriously injured," Chet said wearily.

Mike Stoker smiled. "I keep telling you, Chet, it's all in the timing."

"Ha, ha. Everyone's a comedian."

Johnny chuckled. "That's what your last girlfriend said."

The others nearby hooted at the sputtering firefighter, adding their own ribald comments about Chet's love life. It was all so normal that Johnny turned to speak to Roy, only to be rudely brought back to reality when his laughing brown eyes fell on J.C. whose mouth was tight and grim. Johnny's smile vanished, the animation leaving his face.

"If you're done playing the fool, Gage, we need to make ourselves available," J.C. said, his tone coolly disapproving.

Stanley frowned. "You've been stood down until we're cleared from the site, Carlyle. Which won't be until the Chief or I say so."

"Of course, Captain," J.C. replied stiffly.

Chet, his eyes now opened about the newest member of the crew, was appalled by Johnny's change in demeanor.

His friend had retreated into himself, his eyes focused on his equipment as he quickly packed it up. Chet leaned closer to whisper to him. "Hey, chill out. We don't have to leave yet. You heard Cap."

Johnny grimaced. "I don't want to start any trouble."

"Are you kidding me? Gage, you haven't done anything wrong."

"I have to work with him, Chet. He's my partner now. I want to survive it, so do me a favor and just drop it." His turnouts over one arm, Johnny snagged his spent SCBA by the straps and walked to the squad.

"What the heck does that mean?" Chet asked Marco who had been watching and listening.

"I don't know, amigo, but I don't think this is the time or the place to discuss it," Marco observed with a nod towards a glowering Carlyle.

Chet realized the logic of that, reluctantly resuming his relaxed sprawl. If any of his crewmates knew it was a sham, they didn't mention it.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

The day showed the promise of blue skies and gentle breezes. Johnny appeared at the DeSoto house early in the morning to help set up the tables and chairs.

Roy opened the front door with a mug of coffee in his grip. "Mornin'."

"Good morning to you, too. Got any more of that?" Johnny asked, nodding at the coffee.

"Of course," Roy replied, leading the way into the kitchen. "Rough shift?"

"Yeah."

When Johnny didn't expand on that, Roy turned to stare at his former partner. The silence stretched out as the dark-haired man focused his attention on pouring a cup of coffee, wiping the counter of a nonexistent spill, slouching against the counter, finally staring out the kitchen window at the yard.

"Johnny, please."

"It's nothing, Roy."

"It's something. I assume it involves Carlyle?"

"I can't talk about it."

Roy touched Johnny on the arm. "Can't or won't?"

"What's the difference? He's my…he's my partner now. It's not what we had, it could never be that good. But I had hoped for someone I could…" Johnny's brown eyes were mournful.

"Could what? Johnny?"

"Could feel safe with."

"Has he threatened you?" Roy snapped, shocked by the soft utterance.

Johnny turned away, once again gazing out the window. "Not…no."

"Johnny?"

"There you two are!" Joanne exclaimed as she swept into the kitchen. "Why haven't you started setting up?"

"Jo," Roy began, annoyed at the interruption.

Johnny cut his friend off. "I was just getting some coffee to wake myself up, Joanne. Don't worry, we'll get right to it."

"Johnny."

"Enough, Roy. It's okay. I'll work it out. Don't worry about it." Johnny took his cup, walking to the sliding glass door leading to the deck.

Roy grimaced as he started to follow his friend, stopped by his wife's puzzled voice and gentle hand on his arm.

"What's wrong? Did I walk in at the wrong moment?"

"Maybe." He turned to his wife with a smile. "It doesn't matter, Jo. We'll have plenty of time to talk later."

"You're worried, aren't you?"

Roy wrapped his arms around her, gently hugging his first and only love. "Yeah, I am. There's something wrong with Carlyle, something I think could be dangerous."

"Roy, why won't Johnny tell you? Or complain to Hank?" Joanne asked.

"My best guess is that he doesn't think anything can be done." Roy kissed his wife thoroughly before releasing her to join Johnny outside.

~ E! ~

The party was raucous, the men of Station 51 engaged in a wild game of dodge ball with some of Rampart's personnel. Dixie was particularly adept at avoiding the red rubber ball until Mike Stoker trapped her near an eager Chet Kelly. Cornered, the head nurse laughingly surrendered.

"You, sir, are devious," Dixie said, slapping the engineer lightly on the arm.

Mike's grin was impish as he flung his arm around the blonde's shoulders. "Me? Never. Ask any of the guys, I'm just quiet ol' Stoker. Placid as they come."

"Still waters, Mike, still waters."

Joanne shook her head at the antics of the supposedly adult individuals tearing around her backyard like a pack of ten year olds. She walked back into the house to check on the food heating up on the stove. The doorbell rang, pulling from the kitchen to the living room. She opened the door, finding a stranger standing on her stoop.

"May I help you?"

"Well, well, well. Aren't you a tasty little dish?"

"Excuse me?" Joanne resisted the urge to look over her shoulder for possible help.

"I was looking for the DeSoto house." He leaned closer to the door. "But right now I don't care if I'm at the wrong address."

With a sinking heart, Joanne realized that this was J.C. Carlyle, Roy's replacement. The odor wafting toward her told Joanne that he had already been drinking. "You've found it. The DeSoto house, I mean. I'm Joanne DeSoto, Roy's wife."

"Now that's a great pity. Or possibly not."

"Hey, Jo, can I get the kids some of the Kool-Aid popsicles?" Johnny came bouncing into the living room, a giggling Jennifer riding on his shoulders.

"Gage." Carlyle nodded toward the little girl. "One of your byblows?"

Joanne gasped, backing away from the door.

Johnny reached up to swing a protesting Jennifer to the floor. "Joanne, take your daughter back outside."

"Johnny," Joanne protested, a flicker of apprehension coursed through her.

"Go on, Jo, I'll take care of this."

She nodded, taking Jennifer by the hand. She paused by Johnny. "Be careful," she whispered. "I smelled alcohol."

"Don't worry." His face softened for a moment. "But thanks for the warning."

Carlyle's laugh was scornful. "So that's how it is. Does Roy know you're screwing his wife?"

Shock yielded quickly to fury. "You're drunk, Carlyle, so I'm willing to forget you said that if you leave right now."

"You're willing? I'm not goin' anywhere. I was invited to this shindig." He tried to push past Johnny, only to discover that the skinny pushover wasn't moving. "What the hell is this, Gage? Get out of my way, boy!"

"No." Johnny shook his head. "Not this time. You're not bringing your filth into this house. Go home. Sleep it off."

"Wassa matter? Afraid of the competition? Look at you," J.C. slurred. "Putting your dirty hands all over that brat. You doin' her, too?"

Enraged by the other man's insults, Johnny reached back and let fly his fist. He put all his fear, anger and disgust in the punch.

~ E! ~

Joanne hurried through the house, having swept her daughter up into her arms. Once out on the deck, she put Jennifer down. "Go play, honey."

"What about the Popsicles?"

"We'll get them in a little while. Right now your Uncle Johnny needs your daddy." Joanne searched frantically for her husband, finally spotting him by the back fence, speaking with Brackett and Stanley. "Roy! Roy!"

Roy turned, frowning. Her shouts also caught the attention of the others.

"Joanne, is there a problem?" Joe Early asked, his white hair tousled by the afternoon breeze.

"I'm not sure, but…"

"Honey, what is it?"

"Carlyle's here and he's been drinking. I'm afraid he and Johnny are going to fight."

"Johnny isn't a violent man, Joanne. I doubt anything will happen," Early said.

"I can't say the same about Carlyle," Roy tossed over his shoulder as he hurried into the house, followed by his equally concerned former coworkers.

Seeing the seriousness on all the firefighters' faces, Brackett hurried after them.

They heard the fight before they got there, grunts and the sounds of fists hitting flesh. Then a loud crash that caused Roy to start running. He got there in time to see Carlyle standing over Johnny's prone figure, holding a broken chair leg over his head.

"Drop it, Carlyle!" Roy shouted, veering around the couch.

J.C. didn't react, his arm drawing further back.

Roy knew he wouldn't make it across the room before the blow landed and caught his breath in fear. He was startled to be pushed to one side by Chet, the shorter man jumping on and over the couch, flinging himself onto Carlyle. They tumbled to the floor, grappling. Seeing the others heading to Chet's assistance, Roy and Brackett went to Johnny who was still sprawled senseless near the steps leading to the second floor.

"Johnny?" Roy knelt next to his friend, gently touching his bloody face.

"Gage? John, can you hear me?" Brackett began assessing the younger man's injuries.

"Yeah, yeah, I can hear you," Johnny mumbled, wincing as he tried to sit up.

"Whoa, don't move." Brackett put his hand on Johnny's chest, halting his movements.

"Doc, I'm okay." At the skeptical looks on both men's faces, Johnny amended his statement. "A little battered maybe, but nothing broken."

"Dr. Brackett?" Roy looked at the amused physician.

Having finished his cursory examination, Brackett shrugged. "He may be right."

Johnny grinned, then hissed as the movement pulled at a cut in his lower lip. He reached up and gently touched the wound.

"But," Brackett continued, "I want you to go to Rampart to get x-rays just to be on the safe side."

"Aw, c'mon, Doc," Johnny protested.

"Your only choice is how you get there."

While Brackett and Johnny argued about the need for further medical treatment, across the room the remaining members of Station 51 were busy restraining both a drunken J.C. Carlyle and irate Chet Kelly.

"That's enough!" Captain Stanley snapped. "Kelly, back off."

"Cap," the Irishman protested, glaring at Carlyle.

"Carlyle's under control," Stanley pointed to where Mike and Marco held Carlyle's arms. "No cheap shots, got it?"

Grumbling, Chet agreed. He jammed his stinging hands into his back pockets, resisting the urge to hit Carlyle again. He glanced across the room to where Johnny was getting to his feet, aided by Roy. "Should I call the police, Cap?"

"I think that might be…"

"No!" Johnny said quickly. "No police. We had a fight, it's over with."

"It's not over by a long shot, Gage." Carlyle struggled against the men holding him. "You attacked me, I want the cops called. I'm pressing charges."

Chet's eyes flashed with outrage. "You've gotta lot of nerve, claiming Gage hit you first."

"Uh, actually, I did," Johnny said softly, but still heard by the others.

"What?"

"You hit first?"

"Geez, Gage, you've gotta get better at fighting. He was still standing and drunk, for chrissake!"

"John, why?" Brackett cut to the heart of the matter. "What made you hit Carlyle?"

The battered paramedic continued staring down at the carpet, twitching his shoulders.

"There had to be a reason."

"Hell, there was no reason. His kind have control problems." Carlyle pulled away from Mike and Marco, barely keeping from falling onto his face. "I want the cops called."

"Just hold up," Stanley said. "Before anyone calls the police, I want to know what happened and why it happened. John, I want an answer. Why did you hit Carlyle?"

"I can't."

"Johnny, it's okay." Joanne had walked into the living room unseen by the others. "Tell them. They need to know."

Johnny took a deep breath. Roy's hand gently kneaded his friend's shoulder in support. Sickened by what he had to repeat of Carlyle's vile comments, Johnny felt Roy's hand spasm.

Chet growled, unconsciously curling his hands into fists.

"Where's the phone? I'll call the cops myself." Carlyle moved toward the table where the telephone was located.

"Carlyle, I don't think that's a good idea." Brackett stepped in the other man's path.

"Why not?" J.C. asked belligerently.

"Because they could consider your…comments as inflammatory." The doctor tried to reason with Carlyle.

"What comments? I didn't say anything. The dirty Injun's lying if he said anything different."

"I heard you. I was standing right here." With both hands on her hips, Joanne confronted Carlyle.

He glared at the irate woman. "You're a little too quick to defend Gage. If I were you, Roy, I'd keep an eye on your wife. Seems to me that the two of them were mighty friendly when I got here."

"That's enough," Brackett snapped, only his tight grip keeping Roy in place. "Carlyle, you're leaving. Joanne, please apologize to Dixie for me and ask Joe to take her home. I'll be driving Carlyle to his home, he's in no condition to drive. He can catch a cab back to pick up his car tomorrow. Roy, would you make sure that Johnny gets to Rampart?"

Within moments, Brackett had driven off, leaving Roy to help Johnny to his sports car. Chet followed the two friends outside, watching as Johnny bit his lip while edging into the low-slung vehicle. He hovered nearby, ready to help if needed. Once Johnny was settled, Chet spoke. "You can't let this go, not this time. He attacked you, Gage!"

Johnny looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun. "I attacked him, Kelly. I threw the first punch. I shouldn't have lost control like that." He rubbed at his forehead, his eyes filled with pain. "He could get me fired."

Chet was appalled at the sound of defeat in his friend's voice. "That's not gonna happen, Johnny! He couldn't do that."

"I fought Carlyle in front of Cap and Brackett, the two men with the power of life and death over my job. If he decides to make a formal complaint, they won't have any choice but to, at the very least, suspend me."

"Johnny…"

"No. No cops, no complaint. Just…just drop it." Johnny turned to Roy, now in the driver's seat. "Can we go, get this over with?"

Roy nodded, putting the car in gear and leaving Chet behind.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Roy returned to the house two hours later to find Joanne and his former crewmates waiting for him.

"Where's Johnny? Was he hurt worse than Dr. Brackett thought?" Joanne asked as she gave Roy a hug and a quick kiss.

"He was exhausted, Jo. All he wanted was to go home. I promised that we'd drop off the Rover later."

"Roy, what does John plan to do about what happened today?" Hank Stanley asked, setting his coffee cup on the end table.

"Johnny didn't say much at all, but from what little he did say, I would guess nothing. He won't file any complaints against Carlyle."

"I can understand his reluctance," Hank said.

"I don't!" Chet erupted, jumping to his feet. "This guy is making Gage's life a living hell. And he's not doing anything about it?"

Mike looked across the living room from where he was repairing a lamp broken in the fight. "What did you expect, Chet? Johnny's no fool. He's well aware that even if he did file a formal complaint, nothing much would happen."

Marco agreed. "And he would still be working with Carlyle."

"So, it just continues? With Gage withdrawing more and more, looking over his shoulder every minute of the day? Carlyle can just do whatever he wants?"

"Essentially, yes," Stanley reluctantly agreed. "Times are changing regarding this kind of thing in the private sector, but unless J.C. engages in unacceptable conduct in my presence, while on duty, there isn't much I can do. He has to cause physical harm or otherwise impedes a fellow firefighter's ability to work before I can take action."

"That stinks!" Chet threw himself down on the couch.

"We'll need to watch out for Johnny more than ever now."

"What do you mean, Marco?" Joanne asked.

"Carlyle exposed his violent side to everyone, most particularly to Dr. Brackett and Captain Stanley. He won't like that and will blame Johnny."

This got Stanley's attention. "Are you saying John will be in danger?"

"Based on my own experiences, yeah. I am, Cap." Marco's brown eyes glowed with sincerity.

"Can you prove it? Because that would be a different situation altogether."

"Prove it? No, Cap, there's no real proof. There never is until it's too late."

~E!~

J.C. Carlyle was fuming. He had been embarrassed in front of everyone for no good reason. J.C. couldn't understand how DeSoto, a man he had admired, not only tolerated Gage in his home, but didn't seem to see what was going on between his pretty little slut of a wife and that filthy ex-partner of his.

He slammed his fist through the pale green wall of his living room, still drunk enough to not feel the pain. Gage was the reason for his humiliation. He had to pay.

Stumbling across the room, J.C. started out the door of his apartment, only to remember that his car was parked down the street from the DeSoto house. "Damn it!"

He made his way back inside, adding another mark against Gage. J.C. would be getting the cost of the taxi from his erstwhile partner, both from his wallet as well as from his hide.

J.C.'s fury almost choked him. Curses fell from his mouth as he dug through a drawer, looking for a phone book. Once he found it, J.C. discovered that he wasn't able to focus his eyes well enough to read the telephone numbers. He grabbed another beer from the kitchen.

He fell into a cushy chair, planning to call information for the number. Leaning over to pick up a fallen pen, he passed out, falling onto his face on the green shag carpet. His can of beer was knocked over, the foaming liquid seeping out to form a pool near his face.

~E!~

Johnny let himself into his apartment, tossing the keys onto the coffee table. He rolled his shoulders as he walked to the kitchen. Pulling a pitcher of ice cold water out of the refrigerator, the battered and bruised man poured himself a glass, drained it, and poured another. He carried the glass back to the living room where he dropped onto his couch. He leaned back into the cushions, weariness enveloping him.

He was ashamed of his loss of control, yet couldn't really regret the fight. Johnny just couldn't allow Carlyle's filth to touch Roy's family. But now he was at the mercy of his new partner, subject to possible legal retaliation all because he allowed his temper free reign.

He fell into a fitful sleep, expecting a knock on the door at any moment. His dreams were fragmented, filled with fear and worry.

It was late in the evening when Johnny woke, sluggish and with the beginnings of a tension headache. He shuffled into the bathroom in search of aspirin. While splashing water on his face, Johnny heard a knocking at his door. He froze, then shook himself.

Opening the door, he slumped in relief. "Roy! Come in. Hello, Jo." He stepped back to let the couple inside.

"Here's your car keys."

"Thanks. Would either of you like something to drink? I have iced tea and water. I could put on some coffee if you'd like a cup."

Roy opened his mouth to refuse only to be interrupted by his wife.

"I'd love some tea, Johnny. Thank you." Joanne smiled sweetly as she sat in the bed chair.

Roy, who had known her since childhood, recognized the smile and sighed. Johnny didn't have a chance. "Nothing for me."

Once Johnny returned with tea for Joanne and a fresh glass of water for himself, he sat down beside Roy on the couch. He clutched the glass tightly in his hands.

They all sat in silence, Johnny staring at the floor. Roy began to fidget, wishing he knew what to do to break the tension in the room.

"Johnny?" Joanne's soft voice seemed to startle the paramedic. "Are you okay?"

He nodded with a quick jerk of his head, before he realized more was needed. "I'm fine, Jo. You don't have to worry about me."

"You're our friend, my friend. Of course I worry about you. That awful man is your partner." She shuddered. "I'm very worried. Roy has always tried to shield me from some of the bad things that happen during your work day, but I'm a fireman's wife. I know the dangers, even if I don't know the details. I also know how much you rely on each other." She leaned forward. "I'm truly worried about your safety, Johnny."

"I'll be okay, Joanne, honest. Carlyle wouldn't do anything to me while we're working."

"Hell, Johnny, he already has!" Roy protested.

"That was…it wasn't deliberate." Johnny's response was half-hearted.

"What are you two talking about?" Joanne looked from Roy to Johnny and back again. "Something else happened?"

"Carlyle left Johnny trapped in a burning building."

"We got separated," Johnny said. "It wasn't deliberate."

"Maybe not at first, but he didn't report what happened to anyone. If you hadn't had the HT, no one would've known where you were until it was too late."

"Oh, my God," Joanne whispered. "Johnny."

"Hey, I'm okay. Really, nothing happened." He placed his glass on the coffee table before reaching out to touch the back of Joanne's hand.

"You need to do something about him, Johnny. You need to let Hank know what's going on." She clutched at his hand.

"Cap can't do anything," Johnny tried to explain. "Carlyle is careful not to go too far in front of the brass."

"That's why you have to tell."

"Jo…"

"No! He's a bully. Aren't you the one who told Chris that he has to tell when he's bullied?"

Johnny grinned wryly, looking at Roy. "She doesn't forget a thing, does she?"

"Nope. It's why I can never win an argument," Roy replied sympathetically.

"Joanne, it's not like in school. When you're an adult, you can't go running to someone every time you take offense."

"Johnny, I agree with you as far as that goes, but Carlyle is going past simply offending you. He's putting you in danger." Roy wasn't convinced.

"Look, if that happens, I'll report it. Today was partly my fault. He was drunk and I overreacted. I shouldn't have let him goad me into throwing that first punch."

"Johnny, please be careful. He really frightens me."

"I swear he'll never come near you again, Joanne," Johnny said vehemently.

"I'm not worried about that, I know you and Roy will keep that from ever happening, but you're alone with that person. I know the others at the station will back you up when you're together, but there are too many situations when it's just the two of you in dangerous situations."

Johnny shrugged, unable to deny it. "I'll be careful, Joanne, I promise."

"And you'll tell Hank everything that has been happening?" she persisted.

"If anything happens worth reporting…"

"No! That's not enough."

Johnny leaned forward, taking Joanne's hands in his own. "Jo, it's all I can promise. I can't go running to Cap whenever my feelings are hurt. There's nothing he can do about the situation. People have the right to like or not like anyone they want. You'll just have to accept that I'll be careful and trust me to know when the line is crossed. Okay?"

Joanne DeSoto wasn't happy with the compromise, but finally nodded. "You just make certain that you take care of yourself."

A smile ruffled Johnny's face. "You've got it."

Joanne got to her feet, a startled Roy hastily following suit. "We should go and let you rest." She reached out to hug Johnny.

He escorted the couple to the door. "Thanks again for bringing the Rover over. I'm sorry about breaking up the party."

"Don't worry about it, we'll just do it again without inviting any disruptive elements."

"Oh, you're not letting Chet come?" Johnny quipped.

"Funny man. Have a good night, Johnny."

"You, too, Jo."

Roy lingered behind, giving his friend a searching look. "If you need me, call. No matter when it is."

Johnny nodded. "I will. Thanks, Roy."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

The atmosphere at the fire station was strained. Marco and Mike remained politely distant while Chet gave Carlyle dirty looks and muttered comments until both Captain Stanley and Johnny asked him to stop.

Chet followed Johnny to the bathroom where he had been cleaning. "Gage, he was about to kill you!"

"Maybe, maybe not. He was drunk, I was stupid. It won't help the situation if everyone keeps reacting to it. We need to just move on."

Before Chet could reply, Carlyle walked around the corner from the apparatus bay. "We're low on IV packs."

Johnny nodded. "Okay, J.C. I'll be there in a minute." He took the mop and bucket outside to rinse out, leaving Chet with one final admonition. "Remember what I said."

"Kelly, you got a problem with me?" J.C. challenged.

"Yeah, I do," the mustached firefighter said pugnaciously. "But I kinda agreed to stay out of it, so I'll drop it. For now." He started to brush past Carlyle, stopped by the other man's tight grip on his arm.

"You're taking that filthy piece of trash's side? Since when have you and Gage been so buddy-buddy?"

"We're friends, J.C. Johnny and I have always been friends. I know a lot of people don't understand our relationship, but don't make any mistake, we are friends. What you did at Roy's place was way out of line. Now Johnny is willing to cut you a break. I'm not that easygoing."

"Gage is willing to cut _me_ a break?" J.C. snorted. "Who the hell does he think he is?"

"Your partner," Chet replied. "Now let go of me."

Carlyle watched the shorter man leave before walking to the bay where Johnny waited by the squad. He stopped in front of the dark-haired paramedic. "You watch yourself, Gage. I won't have you badmouthing me to everyone, whining about how you're being treated. Got it?"

Johnny simply looked back before slipping into the driver's seat. Rather than smoothing the situation over, his silence only served to anger Carlyle even more.

"You think you're so special, don't you? The golden boy of the paramedic program. Well, I've got news for you. Nobody thinks you're even trustworthy enough to teach new paramedics." Carlyle slammed the squad door shut.

"What do you mean?" Johnny asked.

"I've got a friend at headquarters who said you were deliberately passed over for the job of paramedic instructor because the brass thinks you're a screw up, that DeSoto carried your sorry ass all these years."

Johnny listened with rising dismay. "A screw up?"

"Immature, unreliable, hotheaded, second-rate, those are just some of the words passed onto me by my friend."

Johnny couldn't speak. _Was that what everyone really thought about him, about his skills? Had he been passed over because no one considered him competent enough?_ The dark-haired paramedic shook his head, trying to put the thoughts out of his head.

The rest of the drive was oppressively quiet, with Johnny staring out at the traffic as he drove to Rampart and J.C. sitting next to him, a smug smile on his face. He pushed his shock over the revelation to the back of his mind, forcing himself to focus on his driving.

Johnny and Carlyle entered Rampart's emergency department together, still not speaking. They quietly obtained the necessary IV packs as well as some other supplies. Dixie watched the two men with a frown. Her efforts to engage Johnny in their usual banter was met with a wistful smile and a few mumbled words of greeting.

"Johnny? What's wrong? Are you okay?" she asked softly while Carlyle completed the paperwork a few steps away.

He shrugged, dipping his head to avoid Dixie's observant blue-gray eyes.

"Let's go," Carlyle snapped, striding down the hall without waiting for his partner.

"Johnny?"

"I've gotta go, Dix." Johnny grimaced as he hurried after Carlyle.

Dixie was still staring after her young friend when Kel Brackett came walking down the hall.

"What's wrong?" the doctor asked.

"Johnny was just here with J.C. Carlyle."

"And?"

The blonde nurse hugged herself, her hands clutching her elbows. "Something's wrong, more than just the fight at Roy's house. Johnny looked…"

When Dixie didn't finish her observation, Brackett prompted her. "He looked how?"

"Devastated. Kel, he looked absolutely destroyed."

Brackett accepted her assessment. "We really can't do much other than to stay alert and be here for Johnny if and when he needs us."

Dixie sighed as she acknowledged Kel's statement, walking back to the nurses' station.

~E!~

Mike Stoker watched Johnny as he walked into the locker room. He paused for a moment beside Roy's old locker.

"What's wrong?"

Johnny's head flew up.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." Mike sat down on the bench in front of the lockers.

"'s okay." Johnny dropped down beside the engineer.

They sat side-by-side, Mike quietly waiting for the other man to speak. When he did, Mike was surprised by the subject.

"What do you think of me, Mike? Honestly."

"I don't…I don't understand, Johnny."

"Do I strike you as a screw up? As incompetent?"

"What? Of course not, Johnny. Who called you that? Carlyle?"

"No." He folded his arms across his chest in a defensive gesture. "At least, not really. He claimed that a friend of his at headquarters said that's why I wasn't picked to teach."

"C'mon, Johnny, you don't really believe that crap, do you?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe."

"That's ridiculous! He's just playing with your head. Don't let Carlyle get to you."

"I'm trying not to, Mike, but it's hard."

"I know, buddy. But I also know that you're one of the best paramedics I've ever seen."

Johnny couldn't control his burst of laughter. "And exactly how many of us have you seen?"

"More than you might think. Being by the engine gives me a better chance of watching you guys in action. You're a caring, competent paramedic. Don't let anyone tell you differently."

"What are you guys talking about?" Chet asked as he popped into the locker room.

Johnny and Mike exchanged smiles before Johnny shook his head. "Nothing important, Kelly."

Chet looked closely at them before shrugging. "Fine, keep your little secrets. Cap's ready for roll call."

Johnny looked at his watch automatically. "Geez, I didn't realize it was so late."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Although Johnny didn't mention it again, he couldn't seem to stop thinking about what Carlyle had said. The words ran over and over again in his head, an endless loop that further eroded his confidence.

"John, may I see you in my office?" Stanley touched him gently on his shoulder.

"Uh, sure, Cap." Johnny blinked, following along.

Once inside the office, the lanky captain closed the door. Silence soon weighed heavily in the room. Johnny stared at his hands, not saying a word.

"John, I need to know how things are going with Carlyle."

The paramedic shrugged. "We're managing."

"Really? Has he…have there been any problems?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing or nothing you want to report."

"Cap, with all due respect, what do you want me to say? You know as well as I do that your hands are tied. The only issues you can deal with are those that happen on the job. The Regs only care about that." Johnny had also been thinking about what Joanne had said to him, about needing to tell someone what was happening. The problem, as he saw it, was that everyone _knew_ , yet really couldn't do much about it.

Stanley let out a long breath of frustration. "Yeah, I understand. But," he continued, one finger raised. "I still want to know. Even if I can't say anything officially, I can still admonish him to knock it off."

With a shrug, Johnny agreed. "Okay, Cap." But deep within he wondered if it wouldn't just serve to make things worse. Although how worse could it get?

Unknown to Johnny, the rest of his friends at the station are huddled outside, out of sight and hearing of J. C. Carlyle.

"What did you find, Chet?" Marco asked.

"Carlyle didn't exactly quit the San Francisco Fire Department as much as was forcefully asked to leave to avoid facing arrest."

Mike pulled the freshly washed hoses out over the tower as he listened. "Arrest for what?"

"Assault of a fellow firefighter, a black firefighter. Apparently, the guy had complained repeatedly about Carlyle, but the department claimed their hands were tied. That it was just talk, even if it was especially vicious and threatening talk. Then things escalated when one of the Battalion Chiefs overheard him ranting about blacks and women in the department, threatening to take care of them all for 'dirtying up' his beloved station. The Chief wrote Carlyle up, threatened to suspend him. Seems Carlyle thought the other firefighter was behind it all and went after him with a crowbar."

"Jesus. How bad was the guy hurt?" Marco shook his head in disbelief.

"According to the guy I talked to, he managed to mostly avoid injury other than a broken arm from fending Carlyle off. The others at the station jumped in and pulled Carlyle back." Chet climbed down from the tower, followed by the two other men.

"And no charges were brought?"

Chet shrugged. "Don't know why, but my buddy said he thought that the department was afraid of getting sued for ignoring things for so long. Especially after that female firefighter committed suicide after being raped by three of her own coworkers two years ago. She had complained about being harassed for months with lewd comments and really out of bounds touching without anything being done to stop it. I think her family sued them in court, got a big settlement."

"And our department is doing the same thing, sticking their head into the sand. Because there is no way in hell that they didn't know about this before they hired Carlyle. It might not be officially in his records, but we all know that scuttlebutt like this would be passed from department to department," Marco observed while washing his hands at the outdoor tap.

"That's what I heard. He didn't want to move all this way, but all the departments surrounding San Francisco wouldn't even call him in for an interview. Los Angeles was the only one to actually offer him a job."

"So, what do we do? Even if Johnny reports what has been happening officially, it looks like he might be right that nothing will be done," Mike asked.

"Hell if I know," Chet replied. "All we can do is watch Carlyle as closely as we can. And if we see something, report it to Cap officially."

"And make Carlyle aware that it us, not Johnny doing it?"

"What other choice do we have?"

They thought about that for some minutes before Mike looked at the others. "When do you plan to tell Roy what you found out, Chet?"

The moustache seemed to droop as the reality sunk in. "Roy's gonna freak."

"When has Roy ever freaked about anything?" Marco questioned.

"When it involves something bad that he can't do anything about. And this definitely falls into that category."

Marco, still thinking about what they could do, suggested telling some of the other paramedics. "They'll be more likely to see Johnny and Carlyle in the field and at the hospital than we will."

After due consideration, they all agreed to make some calls or pass along what they had learned to those who might want to help keep John Gage as safe as they could.

Author's note: The suicide of a female firefighter is very loosely based on an actual event in 2016. As reported by Emergency Management:

In Fairfax County, Va., firefighter Nicole Mittendorff took her life in 2016 after being harassed about her work online. The department appointed a woman to address gender problems, but she resigned this year, according to local reports, saying no one was heeding her suggestions.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

The next few weeks passed in anxious anticipation at Station 51. Carlyle quickly realized that his every action while on duty was under close observation. His rage was growing, although not as yet shown in public. In private, however, it was another matter.

Shortly before leaving San Francisco, like-minded friends had given him a few names of people in the Los Angeles area who would be supportive, as well as a bar that catered to whites only.

Carlyle found himself spending more and more of his time at the bar, an enclave where he could speak his mind without worry about retaliation from Captain Stanley or others in the upper echelons of the fire department. He knew he couldn't afford to be fired from another department. Oh sure, they let him resign, but it was the same thing. He was lucky to have had a contact who had a relative on the hiring committee or he'd be stuck in some Podunk town's mostly volunteer fire department.

As he downed another glass of whiskey, Carlyle turned to his drinking companions. "Is it too much to ask to find a place where you can work and live among your own kind?"

"According to the government, it is." Lucas Baldwin replied sarcastically. "Or did you forget about that Civil Rights crap? At the rate this country is turning brown and black, we'll need to move to Alaska."

"Nah, not there. They've got them Eskimos. Just a fancy name for Injuns." Willie Douglas observed with a drunken nod, waving to the bartender for a refill. "Maybe Minnesota. Don't think it has any Injuns or colored people."

Lucas frowned. "What's in Minnesota?"

"I dunno. Cows. Farms. Lots of white people from Scandinavia and other of them white European countries. Especially after World War II."

"I don't know, Willie. I mean, I got the whole Master Race thing, but they took it too far. I don't know if I'd want to live with Nazis. My pops got badly shot up over there. Plus, I think Minnesota gets a lot of serious nasty blizzards." Lucas fished in the bowl of beer nuts and pretzels sitting nearby.

All three considered the disadvantages of serious winters before dismissing Minnesota from their wish list of places to move. No matter how they might've wanted it to be different, they all knew that the country, hell, the world was changing. Civil Rights, Voter Rights, the ERA and women's libbers, integration, everything that was ruining the country.

"You'd think they'd all want to live together, wouldn't you? I mean, we want to live among our own people. Lots of Injuns still live together on the reservations. So why don't the colored want to do the same?"

"That, Willie, is simple. They want whatever good, God-fearing, law-abiding white people have. Only they aren't willing to work for it. So instead they either steal it or work the system for handouts." Carlyle snorted.

"C'mon, guys, time to pay your tabs and head out." The bartender began collecting the empty bottles and dirty glasses.

"What are you talking about, Phil?" Carlyle asked, puzzled. "It's not even close to dark out, much less closing time."

"Got a private party coming at 6. I need time to clean and set up. Which means you lot need to clear out."

"What kind of meeting?" Lucas wondered who would hold a private party in a dingy place like this. Looking around at the Confederate flags, dead animals, antique rifles, and infamous photographs of police using fire hoses or dogs to break up anti-war and Civil Rights protests.

The bartender stared at them for a long moment before answering. "The Klan."

Lucas, caught by surprise, stopped reaching for his wallet. "The Klan? Here in Los Angeles?"

"Yeah. Not a big group but dedicated."

"Can we stay for the meeting?" Willie asked, carefully counting out dollar bills onto the bar.

Phil picked up the money owed off the bar, setting down whatever change was needed. He frowned when Lucas took all the change and put it in his pocket. "Private means no, you can't. Call them tomorrow if you're so interested."

Even more surprised, Lucas had to ask, "they're in the phone book?"

Phil sighed. "No, but you can get their number from information. Now get the hell out of here."

Ushering all three men, his only customers so early in the day, out the door, he securely locked it behind them.

Lucas, Carlyle, and Willie stood outside the bar, their normal schedule disrupted.

"What do we do now?" Willie asked.

Looking around, Lucas saw a liquor store nearby. "Let's get something more to drink, take it to the park. There's a small neighborhood park just a few blocks away. We could walk there."

In agreement, they slowly stumbled to the store, opting for bottles of whiskey rather than beer. Not even waiting until they reached the park, the men began drinking as they walked, none of them wanting to be alone back in their apartments.

~E!~

Joanne DeSoto threw wide the front door, welcoming John Gage with a fierce hug. "You are a lifesaver, Johnny. Thank you!"

"You're welcome." As Joanne bustled off to find her daughter, Johnny turned his attention to her son. "Hey, Chris, you ready for the soccer tryout?"

"Yep, the practice with you and Uncle Marco really helped. I really hope I can get the midfielder position."

"Just remember that the coach will put you in whatever position he feels you can handle best, so don't get upset if you are made defender or forward. You're good enough to be goalkeeper."

Chris wrinkled his nose. "I know covering the goal is important, but you don't get a lot of action there."

Johnny laughed, slapping at the boy's cap bill. "Until the ball gets close, then you have to be all over the place. Just do your best whatever position."

"I will, Uncle Johnny."

Joanne came back with Jennifer and a bag. "Johnny, seriously, I do appreciate you taking Jen to the park to meet up with Mrs. Collins. I don't understand why the soccer coach had to move up the tryouts, but at least this way no one misses out. Jen, be good at Mrs. Collins' house. Have fun at the sleepover."

"I will," Jennifer replied, taking the bag from her mother.

"Your pjs, a change of clothes for tomorrow, your swimsuit, and a few snacks are in there." Joanne bent down to brush a kiss across her daughter's forehead. "Have fun."

"Bye, mom!" Jennifer followed Johnny out to his Land Rover. He made sure that the door was closed before walking around to the driver's side of the car.

Because Mrs. Collins lived in a gated community, it was thought to be easier to meet at the park. Mrs. Collins has two children, Susie and Jason. Susie was Jennifer's "bestest friend" and was having a sleepover. Jason was a toddler, cute and talkative. Johnny knew them both from volunteering to help Roy set up booths for Pan-American Day and May Day school events.

On the drive to the park, Johnny listened as Jennifer enthused about the sleepover and how many other girls from her class would be there. Based on what he could hear, it appeared that Mrs. Collins would have her hands full with 12 excitable little girls.

Pulling into the parking lot of the park, Johnny told Jennifer to wait until he turned the engine off. "I don't want you to get hurt, Jen. So, let me walk around the car and open your door." He grinned. "After all, that's what I do for all my dates."

A blinding grin broke out at that.

Johnny walked with Jennifer to where some other little girls were playing. He saw some of the mother's sitting at a nearby picnic table and headed that way while Jen ran to her friends.

"Mrs. Collins, ladies."

"John, you brought Jennifer?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'd think by now that you could call me Barbara," she said with a flirtatious smile.

Johnny blushed. "Okay, I'll try and remember."

Barbara Collins introduced the other three mothers to Johnny, explaining how he was Jennifer's honorary uncle. They discussed the pending sleepover, how the election for governor was going, and the threat of more wildfires in the surrounding hills before the crash of glass caught Johnny's attention.

Turning, the paramedic spotted three men weaving across the park, hooting at the children as they were on the teeter-totters. Quickly recognizing how drunk they were, how two of them were carrying liquor bottles, while the third man was kicking at a bottle that appeared to have slipped out of his hand. He also realized that one of the men was J. C. Carlyle.

"Barbara, ladies, you need to get all the children away."

Just as two of the mothers hurried over to gather the children, Johnny realized that he had been recognized by Carlyle.

"You son of a bitch. I'm not gonna let you drive me out of this department. You people are the ones who need to get the hell out. Nobody wants you." Carlyle slammed his liquor bottle down on the monkeybars, then ran towards where Johnny was trying to help move the kids away, holding the broken glass in front of him like a weapon.

Johnny had turned away from him to pick up Susie who had fallen while running to her mother. He heard the man's shouted obscenities and quickly put the child on her feet. "Run to your mother. Don't look back, just run."

Spinning about, Johnny was unprepared to feel the swipe of fire across his upraised arm. The sudden appearance of blood had the children screaming. The mothers yanked them away, running to their cars and safety.

Barbara had Susie gripped in one arm and Jennifer in the other, dragging them across the park as quickly as she could. Jennifer was terrified, fighting to get back to her Uncle Johnny.

The other two men had reached their friend and, not knowing what was going on but recognizing the stranger as "not white", joined into the fight. Blows were exchanged. Johnny's head erupted in blinding white pain when one of the new men smashed a fist into his face.

Desperate, Johnny threw his shoulder into him, sending the man crashing into the monkeybars. Gasping, he followed that up with a desperate kick at the other, catching him in just the right spot and freeing himself from the restraining hold.

He could feel his panic rising as a boot slammed into his stomach, choking off his breath. The blood continued to flow from the cuts on his arm. It was making a secure hold difficult for his opponents. They continued to grapple, trying to inflict damage on each other in an effort to end the fight. For Johnny, the mission was to keep them away from the children. For Carlyle, it was the end of John Gage.

If it had just been just Johnny and Carlyle, things might've worked out. With three against one, Johnny was in horrible danger.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: The delay posting this chapter was due to difficulty in researching the medical procedures for injuries of Johnny's type during the late 1970s. After consulting with some medically trained acquaintances, I've opted to go with what seemed to work best for me. That means it may not be medically accurate. Just go with it, please.

Chapter Fifteen

There was a small convenience market just a few blocks away. One of the mothers ran to her car, bundling her daughter into the back seat. "I'll call for help!" she yelled out the window as she drove off.

Shoving her daughter Susie and Jennifer DeSoto into Georgia Lorenzo's car with Georgia and her daughter Ellen, Barbara ordered them to lock the doors and keep the windows rolled up.

"What are you going to do, Babs?" Georgia asked.

"I don't know. But John needs help."

"Take this." Georgia handed Barbara a baseball bat. "Be careful."

Barbara, unknown to many of her friends other than Georgia, had played softball through her high school and college years. The bat felt comfortable and familiar in her hands. Raising it above her shoulder, Barbara stalked to where Johnny was struggling to keep the men from doing more damage to his body.

From the way he was turned to protect his right side, not to mention the amount of blood pouring from his right arm, it appeared that Johnny was losing that fight. Barbara skirted around the four men, waiting for an opportunity to whittle down the numbers.

When one of the men tripped, it gave her an opening. Swinging the bat at the man's knee with the same accuracy and power that made her home run averages better than most of the boys who played either softball or baseball, Barbara followed through. The crack of the kneecap shattering, combined with the scream of pain probably shouldn't have been as satisfying as they were, but she had no plans to apologize to anyone.

The second man, who seemed to be conflicted as to engaging in the fight or running. Once his buddy was down, he made his decision. He ran.

That left just one man grappling with Johnny. Blood was everywhere, making any purchase slippery and difficult. Barbara had the bat raised again, but she could find an opening to take another swing, not without the danger of hitting her friend in mistake.

She was so intent on the fight that she didn't hear the sirens announcing the arrival of the police.

"Drop the bat!"

She turned to see that the order came from two LAPD uniformed officers and complied, dropping the bat. "You've got to stop that one. He's got a broken bottle."

"Break it up." Ignored, the two men moved in, quickly subduing both men.

Johnny dropped to his knees, pulling out of the officer's grip. His body bowed over his right arm.

Barbara moved in, catching the off-duty paramedic before he completely collapsed. "John, your arm!" She ordered the police officer to call for paramedics.

"Already on the way. Gage? What happened?"

"Partner. Carlyle. Attacked me. Don't know … the other two."

Barbara yanked her sweater off, quickly bundling it up and pressing it against Johnny's arm in an attempt to slow the bleeding. Keeping her attention on Johnny, she swallowed deeply. There were multiple cuts on the right arm and, based on the amount of blood, she believed quite a few were very deep cuts.

A paramedic truck arrived, the firefighters splitting up, one headed to the attacker with the broken kneecap and other other quickly taking over Johnny's care. The ambulance was on the way, according to one of the men.

"Mrs. Collins, Barbara. Keep Jen back. Call Joanne."

"I will. I've got her, don't you worry about Jennifer. You just do what you're told." She smiled. "I've heard stories."

The paramedic working on Johnny smiled, but she could see that he was worried. The ambulance backed up over the grassy play area. Johnny was quickly loaded onto the stretcher and both the ambulance and the paramedic truck quickly headed away.

As they left, another ambulance arrived to transport the man Barbara had taken out.

~E!~

The emergency room doors slammed open, the gurney straddled by a bloody paramedic. Dixie sent out the call for a physician, directing the men to the nearest examination room. She was shocked when she first saw who the patient was.

"What happened?"

"Multiple stab and slice wounds on the right forearm, a few appear to have cut to the bone. More defensive cuts on his right hand, some very deep. He's lost a lot of blood. Lost consciousness about ten minutes ago."

Doctor Joe Early hurried into exam room, quickly taking over for the paramedic. "Dixie, who's the orthopaedic surgeon on call?"

She quickly went through her mental on-call schedule. "Seifer, Jon Seifer. I'll have him paged."

~E!~

Word went out quickly that John Gage had been attacked by his new partner, J. C. Carlyle. That Carlyle was under arrest, along with another man involved in the attack. And that Johnny's injuries were serious.

Barbara Collins had immediately drove to Joanne DeSoto's house, knowing that the woman would want to know what happened as well as to see her daughter. Joanne and her son arrived home an hour later to the horrendous news.

Captain Stanley was called at his home by the captain of the paramedics who responded to the call, an old friend from his first days as a firefighter. He thanked him for calling, then began contacting the rest of Station 51's A Shift. Off-duty or not, they were a family.

The only one who didn't know was Roy DeSoto as he was teaching a class that day. Even though Jake was listening to the fire calls, the combination of Johnny being off-duty and names not being used over the radio meant he didn't know either.

Chet Kelly was the first to arrive at the hospital as he lived the closest of them all to Rampart. He spotted Dixie in the hallway, hailing her. "Dix? What's going on?"

"I assume the rest of the gang are on their way?"

"Yeah, of course. I don't know about Carlyle."

Dixie's face darkened. "He won't be here. Carlyle is the one who attacked Johnny."

"What? Damn it! Another fistfight?"

"Not this time. Look, let's wait until everyone is here to explain, okay?"

"I guess."

After 51's remaining crew and a distraught Joanne arrived, they were taken into a nearby lounge by Dixie. Dr. Early was waiting. After everyone took a seat, he began.

"Gentlemen. Joanne. John was brought into emergency after being attacked by his partner, Carlyle, and two other men. One of the men is also here at Rampart with a broken kneecap." Early squeezed the top of his nose.

"Johnny did that?" Chet asked.

"No, my friend Babs took a bat to him," Joanne explained.

"Whoa. Is she single?"

Everyone laughed when Joanne arched an eyebrow at him. "No, Chet. She's the mother of Jen's best friend."

"Can't blame a guy for asking."

"How badly is John hurt?" Hank Stanley asked, knowing it must be bad considering that they were being privately informed.

"He's currently in surgery. Dr. Seifer is trying to repair the damage in John's right arm. Carlyle took a broken bottle on it. There's severe damage to both muscles and tendons. The cuts are particularly nasty and, because of the makeshift weapon used, rough. Two of his fingers were almost cut in half." Early looked at the group. "I'll be honest. It doesn't look good. We won't know how much permanent damage was caused."

"Worst case scenario?"

Early took a deep breath, letting it out in a pained huff. "Hank, why don't we wait and see what happens?"

"That bad." Hank closed his eyes.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

 _Warning: Contains profanity and other offensive language._

Johnny's operation ran close to six hours due to the meticulous nature of the surgery. As word spread about the attack on Johnny and his resulting injuries the waiting room was visited by any on-duty paramedics who had hospital runs to Rampart. Johnny's friends from other stations, if off-duty, began to trickle in, bringing food and drinks to those already waiting.

Roy DeSoto had stormed into the waiting room after finding a note from Joanne at the house explaining what had happened and where both she and the children were. He was dealing with a volatile mix of guilt, anger, and fear when he arrived, but there was no real focus for him to let loose his feelings. Now he sat beside his wife, holding her hand while they waited to hear whether the intricate knitting of tendons and nerves would be successful.

"Cap, what about Carlyle?" Chet Kelly asked, on the verge of going after the man himself.

"According to the police and the Chief's office, he's still in police custody. They've charged him with assault with a deadly weapon and public drunkenness. He won't be allowed to post bond, if there is any, until he's sober. The man whom Mrs. Collins took down, a Lucas Baldwin, is here in Rampart as a patient. He'll be charged with simple assault as he just used his fists, again with public drunkenness. According to Baldwin, the third man is Willie Douglas. He ran off and is currently being searched for. They expect to charge him with simple assault as well."

Marco, Mike, and Chet exchanged intense looks before Marco spoke. "Captain, we don't want to make your position any tougher, but we won't work with Carlyle if he comes back to the station."

"I understand. I wish I could've done something to prevent this, but I guarantee you that he won't be coming back to 51." Captain Stanley had been in and out of the room, spending more time on the telephone in a nearby office, informing the Fire Chief's office what the situation was. He had already only notified them that he would be demanding Carlyle be suspended from duty. And that he would not be welcomed back to Station 51 even if the legal charges were dropped.

Marco Lopez slipped out into the hallway to use the payphone to notify their local Union representative about the attack as well as the events leading up to it and the inability of Captain Stanley to do anything substantive to stop Carlyle before things got out of control. He also gave everything Chet had discovered about Carlyle's background in San Francisco. The IAFF Local 1014 advised him they would need everything reported officially in order to launch an investigation into how Carlyle was hired.

Seeing both Dr. Brackett and another doctor walking down the hallway, Marco quickly promised to write out everything they all knew, hanging up the phone and hurrying back to the overflowing waiting room.

"Gentlemen, Joanne, this is Dr. Jon Seifer, the orthopedic surgeon who operated on Johnny. Jon, this are John Gage's friends and coworkers."

Seifer looked around in dismay. "Kelly, I can't give patient information to all these people."

Brackett walked to where Roy had slowly gotten to his feet. "Roy DeSoto has Johnny's medical authority. We'll be going to my office for specifics, but," he faced the room, "just to let you all know, he is alive and will recover. It will be hours before Johnny is awake. My advice is to go home, get some sleep and call tomorrow to see if Johnny's up to having visitors."

Turning back to Seifer, Brackett motioned to Roy and Joanne to accompany them. "Let's go."

The others were thrilled by what they heard, but the men of Station 51 knew that there was more. They would simply have to wait for the other shoe to drop.

Once in Brackett's office, Roy and Joanne took the visitor chairs while Seifer leaned against the desk.

"How bad is it?" Roy asked quietly, too experienced a paramedic not to read the body language.

"He will be able to use his right arm. However, some of the tendons were too badly damaged to reconnect fully." Seifer sighed, twitching shoulders tired from the hours leaning over the operation table. "John Gage will have a limited grip strength. Bottom line, he'll never have full use again."

Gripping Roy's hand tightly, Joanne leaned forward. "How much _will_ he have?"

"At best, maybe 60% if he works hard at his therapy."

"Roy, this means the end of his career with the fire department."

"Shit. I know."

"Roy, this will destroy him. He loves his job." Joanne's brown eyes filled with tears.

~E!~

J. C. Carlyle called his distant cousin, Henry Ferguson, a man who shared the paramedic's beliefs about the destruction of the country with the increase of non-whites. He was also the reason Carlyle managed to get hired with the County. Henry worked in the office that was responsible for contacting former employers for background information and references.

"What the fuck did you do?" Henry screamed into the phone.

"He was asking for it," Carlyle snapped.

"Gage was at a fucking playground, surrounded by kids and their mothers, minding his own damn business. Too bad you didn't do the same, you and your cronies."

"C'mon, Henry, what's the big deal? As soon as I get out of jail I'll have a little talk with the bastard. He'll drop the charges, believe me."

"You're a moron. Gage is in the hospital. According to what I've heard, he's pretty badly sliced up. The Fire Chief has been fielding calls al day from the police, your captain, and the union. Sooner or later, probably sooner, they'll discover the truth. That you were fired from SFFD and why. Then they'll start wondering how that wasn't discovered during the initial interview and hiring process. Which will lead to me!"

"Don't overreact. Who cares about some filthy redskin getting in a fight off duty?"

"It wasn't a fight; it was an unprovoked attack. With a broken bottle, which is considered a weapon. In front of numerous witnesses who are upstanding citizens." Henry's heavy breathing came over the phone line. "I'm not overreacting. I've got news for you. Cousin or not, fellow believer or not, I won't cover for you. If they come to me, I'll tell them the damn truth." With that, Henry slammed the receiver down.

Furious at the threat and the spikes of pain shooting through his skull, Carlyle demanded to make another phone call.

"You're only legally entitled to one call."

"I need to find a bail bondsman."

The officer standing guard shook his head. "Won't do you any good. Your bond won't be set until you appear before the judge."

"Which will be when?" the paramedic demanded.

"Once the alcohol is completely out of your system. Maybe evening court. More likely first thing tomorrow morning, especially considering your blood alcohol level."

"Great. Just fucking great."

~E!~

John Gage had slipped from drugged sleep into a more natural one, frustrating his friends who were eager to see him. Roy was the only one who felt some relief. It meant a delay in destroying Johnny's professional life. He hadn't shared the doctor's prognosis with anyone, wanting Johnny to know first.

Station 51's remaining A-Shift were back on duty the next morning while Joanne opted to stay home until afternoon visiting hours. This left Roy sitting by Johnny's bed early the next morning, keeping him company during what passed for breakfast in a hospital, waiting for the arrival of Dr. Seifert.

"Rubbery scrambled eggs, equally rubbery bacon, and biscuits that could double as miniature hockey pucks. And what is this goop? Corn-less mush?"

Roy peered closer at the white slimy mess. "I'm not sure. Grits?"

"Gross, whatever it was supposed to be."

They talked about sports, Johnny's ranch, Jennifer's sleepover, and Chris' soccer tryout success. Anything and everything but why they were there.

Doctors Seifert and Joe Early walked into the room near ten o'clock.

Less than twenty minutes later Seifert walked out, leaving a stricken patient behind. Roy hadn't said a word, just gripping Johnny's forearm in support. He could feel the trembling of shock and devastation left behind.

"I can't be a paramedic. I can't be a firefighter. I can't…I don't know…" He turned stricken brown eyes at Roy. "What am I going to do?"

"We'll figure it out. Focus on healing first," Roy said softly.

"John." Early stood closer to the bed. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Yeah, thanks. Doc."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

One Year Later

Roy DeSoto carefully guided the family station wagon up the gravel road to Johnny's ranch. Based on the number of other vehicles parked near the sprawling cabin, they weren't the first to arrive.

"Daddy, we're late!" Jennifer screamed in his ear, hanging halfway over the front seat.

"Jennifer Anne DeSoto, park your tush back in that seat," Joanne ordered, her finger pointed to where Jen normally sat when they drove anywhere.

"We're not late. I can see two more cars coming up the road behind us." Roy watched both his children popping up to look out the back of the car, trying to see who it might be.

Once parked, Roy let Chris and Jen run to the cabin, shouting Johnny's name to announce their arrival. He and Joanne followed at a slower pace, his arm slung around her shoulders.

The newly arrived cars parked close by, disgorging Mike Stoker and Holly, his date, from a white sedan, followed by Kelly Brackett and Dixie McCall from the doctor's emerald green sports car. They exchanged greetings as they reached the steps to the porch.

It had been a rough year for everyone, including the fire department itself. The investigation into how J. C. Carlyle had been hired despite his history in San Francisco had revealed a combination of people who either ignored or covered up pertinent facts during the hiring process. It also led to the discovery of a former captain turned Battalion Chief from the notorious Station 118 who had directed Carlyle's application to like-minded people to enable his acceptance. Discipline actions for those involved included suspensions, reassignments, demotions, and some firings. And forced retirement for the Battalion Chief.

"He got off too easy," Chet sniped, sitting near the grill currently heating up.

Marco shrugged. "He made a deal, named names."

Johnny observed softly, "Procedures are changing, Chet. They are writing new regulations prohibiting hate speech within the department."

"Yeah, yeah, we all heard the speech. 'It's a different world, filled with all races and some women stepping up to protect the county. We can do no less.' Sounds good." Chet took a sip from his beer bottle.

Roy moved to where the other men sat, having caught Chet's comment. "You don't believe it?"

"The proof will be in how they handle the first serious non-violent complaint they receive." Marco lowered his voice, leaning forward to keep the conversation among the four of them. "I have serious concerns about this working considering any complaint has to be submitted to their immediate superior."

"Captain Stanley is a good man, a fair man. Many of the other captains are as well. But we all know that isn't true across the department. You're worried what will happen if the captain receiving the complaint is part of the problem."

"Frankly, I'd be seriously worried if I was still on the job," Johnny said, waving his right arm with the supportive brace he now must wear.

Marco got up to check the grill's temperature. Pleased that it was hot enough to begin cooking, he pulled out the burgers and franks from the red cooler sitting nearby. "There needs to be oversight. The Union needs to be involved. I think they are pushing for inclusion in the process."

"When is Carlyle's trial for the assault, John?"

"It is scheduled to begin next week. The department wants him to settle, but so far he's fighting any type of punishment."

Roy frowned. "You're not dropping the charges!"

"Chill out, Roy. I have no intention of doing so." Johnny shook his head. "I've already paid too much for trying to avoid a fuss."

"Roy, are you coming back to the Station? The openings were announced yesterday, we could use you." Marco flipped the meat on the grill as he spoke.

"Jo and I talked it over. I'm staying with teaching for the time being. I just don't feel like doing the job without Johnny beside me."

Johnny's ears grew red as his grin spread across his face. "Pally, that's stupid. You're too good a paramedic to give up on it just because I'm not with the department anymore."

"That's a big part of it, I admit. But I've lost a lot of confidence in the people in charge. Who knows who might be assigned to work with me? Thanks, but no thanks. I've gotten used to the regular hours, the ability to train others to step up and do the job."

"You said for the time being. Are you considering something else?" Chet asked.

"I'm…I'm actually considering putting my name up for a Captain's position."

Roy was pleased by the positive response to that announcement.

"Food's up!" Marco announced.

"My cue to get the salad out of the kitchen. Be right back." Johnny headed to the sliding glass doors at the back of the cabin.

"Do any of you know how much time Carlyle might get if he's found guilty?" Mike Stoker asked, joining the group.

"I spoke to the prosecuting attorney when I was prepping for my testimony," Marco answered. "He might not do any time at all."

The angry response had him holding his hand up to keep their feelings in control. "Yeah, I get it, but the reality is that he has a clean record, no arrests. Worst case, probation for a couple of years and some community service. Probably court mandated anger management."

"And best case?"

"One, maybe two years. Even John doesn't think they'll get a guilty verdict for attempted murder. Carlyle and his buddies were incredibly drunk."

"I heard his paramedic certification has been revoked, so that's something," Mike offered. "He won't be able to get a job in almost any fire department that I can think of, thanks to the publicity over this."

Roy slammed his beer bottle down onto the picnic table. "So, he ruined Johnny's life and tore up both the station and the department only to walk away scot-free. It's not right!"

"I'm alive. I might have had to leave what I loved to do, but I had something else I loved to fall back on, raising and training horses. I still have my friends." Johnny placed the huge bowls of salad on the table, resting his hand on his friend's shoulder. "I refuse to let that bastard win by focusing on the negative."

The others began nodding, gathering around as the group of friends they still were despite the changes to their lives.

June 2019

A/N: I know this ending might not please a lot of readers. It is a bit more realistic than many would like.

I have rewritten this chapter over and over and over again, not satisfied with how it came out. I've known from the beginning that Johnny would not be coming back to the department, but I just wasn't able to get the words to work like I wanted. I hope this isn't a complete disappointment to everyone, but it is what I had planned even back when I first started writing this story back in 2008.


End file.
